On Steel Wings
by kujikiri21
Summary: Azazel. Governor of the Fallen. Sacred Gear Scholar. Sex machine. A Father of a lost son. He had lost his red-haired son years ago on that horrible day to the Dimensional Gap. What if he returned?
1. Chapter 1

On Steel Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own Fate/Stay Night or High School DxD.

Prologue

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The winds whipped across the pale sands of the desert, rustling the pale and old-fashioned hide tents beneath the silvery moon and glittering stars of the dark night. The residents had long since retreated to their shelters, the sun leaving the sky a sign for their work to halt and it was time to eat and then rest for the next day's hard travel. Such was the way for those who travel in the sometimes inhospitable, and always unforgiving, world of sand.

But there was one family unit amongst these desert people that had not turned in yet.

A solid middle-aged man, with dusky skin and short black hair, laughed to himself softly as he watched his red-haired daughter play quietly with her giggling son, his eyes were creased with a smile and his neatly trimmed moustache and beard twitched in merriment.

"You know, daughter," he spoke humorously, a teasing glint entering his startling blue eyes reflected by the soft illumination of the lamps hanging within the tent's roof, "it is a fair while after the boy's bedtime. Perhaps you should lay him to rest rather than make him a giggling mess. The Lord knows that he has enough energy to run us into the ground on a good day," he huffed a laugh as he leaned back on the soft silken cushions that lined the tent floor, "I have no desire to see him on a bad day after a lack of sleep."

The long crimson haired woman glanced at her father with slight exasperation, her golden amber eyes glinting in the light in her dusky skinned features. Her face was what her people called 'peri-faced', soft curves and sharp angles blending together to create a visage almost unearthly in it's beauty, visible even behind the soft black veil she wore.

"You know why I have him up, Father," she responded with fond exasperation, going through the motions of an old argument that had long since been resolved but was still brought up in good humour.

"Indeed," he answered with a soft mutter, his face still amused, " I still sometimes think that _He_ is an odd choice in paramours."

"That is an improvement on your first thoughts of _Him_," his daughter responded with a gentle smirk, unseen due to the veil and her return to entertaining her son.

"Quite," he mused to himself, remembering the extreme dislike he held for his daughter's lover/semi-husband after meeting _him_ for the first time. Probably because he had walked in on them during an intimate moment. It had been further enhanced by the revelation of what and who _he_ was.

His hands had been itching toward the sword at his waist, an odd thing to wear in these modern times unless you knew the Truth, every time _He_ had entered his line of sight or _his_ name was dropped in idle conversation among some of the more devout in the troupe.

Still, he had eventually given a grudging approval to the match between the two after several years of knowing _him_ and seeing how _he_ treated his precious daughter. This approval slowly gained respect in the face of _His_ prowess as a warrior, sheer power, intelligence and steadfast loyalty to her. The final event that let him release his dislike of _Him_ was the birth of his daughter's son, especially in the face of her somewhat reduced fertility due to a childhood illness.

He and his beautiful daughter had given him the most precious gift he could ever desire. No wealth of any form, no fame to any extent, no knowledge of great rarity nor power in any shape, could equal the feeling he had when he held his grandson for the first time after the laborious birth. His blue eyes shone as they met the infantile golden for the first time and the man somehow _**Knew**_ that this boy, his grandson, would change the world. He would be a warrior born, the likes not seen in his homeland since the Old Times. The time of the Shahs, when the hero Rostam still rode or the likes of Esfandiyar still lived.

He had become good friends with his daughter's lover after that. Even if _His_ laid back and lazy attitude annoyed the generally serious, in public, man.

The gleam of a magical circle forming in a corner of the large tent returned the man's attention to the present, his daughter halting the tickle game with her five year old son as she gazed with longing anticipation at the pale blue sigil.

"Finally," the father of the girl smiled, "it took him long enough to arrive. You would think that with the ability to teleport he would be a bit quicker."

"You try dealing with a committee and see how long it takes to get things done," the magically appearing being grunted slightly as he appeared out of the circle, which disappeared as quickly as it appeared, "I got out of the meeting only five minutes ago."

The being was slightly taller than the average man at six foot two inches with a deceptively slim build hidden beneath the Japanese-style robes (the father wasn't quite sure of the appropriate name for them) and soft sandals. His hair was scruffy, as if he had just gotten out of bed, and jet black, except for a series of golden bangs. His eyes, a calm hazel, glinted with a mixture of intelligence and mischief that hid the pure steel they could bring to bear if angered enough.

"Beloved," his daughter spoke softly, her eyes a melting amber as they gazed upon the being that had captured her heart.

"Abal," he returned, just as softly, striding across the tent before wrapping her in a gentle embrace, ignoring the amused man as he watched on, not minding the breaking of traditional family protocols. He generally treated them as guidelines rather than strict rules anyway.

A tugging on his robe drew the golden banged man's attention away from his lover and to the young child at her side.

"Hey there, little man," the man said softly with strong affection as he ruffled the boy's hair, more vibrant than even his mother's, "Have you been good for your mother?"

"Yes, Papa" the child spoke with a slightly serious look that was ruined by his childish features, "I did all my lessons and helped Mother."

"That is my little Salil," the man said with pride, reaching down and lifting his now squirming son onto his shoulder with an ease that belied his apparent size.

The middle aged man decided to interrupt the little family moment before it got too involved and he was totally forgotten.

"It is good to see you again, Azazel" the man said as he approached his daughter's chosen.

A warrior's handclasp between the two men was exchanged before the now identified Azazel responded to the taller and broader father of his beloved Abal.

"And it good to see you as well, Hyder" Azazel smirked as he gently urged his family to take a seat next to him as they all rested on the cushioned floor of the relatively opulent tent after he put down his son. Azazel eyes wandered over the sheathed sword that hung at the side of Hyder's waist, "still holding onto that old thing I see."

Hyder chuffed a laugh as he patted the sword that had been in the possession of his family for a number of generations, the bejewelled green studs glinting in the light of the lamps, "And I will continue to hold it until my grandson can take it up."

Azazel raised an eyebrow at Hyder, "I thought the sword chose it's own wielder?" he queried in some surprise.

Hyder chuckled again, "You named my grandson quite appropriately. The sword sings to him, even as I hold it."

Azazel smiled with pride, having a son who could wield that sword properly, instead of being a placeholder like some of the men in his heritage, was quite an accomplishment.

"Do you mind if I release my wings?" Azazel asked, "keeping them hidden is somewhat burdensome and the meeting was long."

A wave of hand in dismissive permission had the leader of the Grigori sigh in relief as he seemed to wrap himself, along with his lover and their son, in a cloud of black feathers, obscuring from Hyder's view for a moment, before the feather cloud slowly vanished revealing the abyss black feathered wings, all twelve of them, to all within.

"That's better," Azazel groaned in relief as he rolled his shoulders, his wings stretching out and loosening up after being hidden away. A soft stroking of his wings made him look at his mate with a slight relaxed smirk, Abal knowing exactly where to stroke to both relax him and satisfy her own fascination of the avian accessories, something that hadn't faded since the day he had met her.

"Given how much you like these," Azazel smirked as he flicked his upper wings, "I'm surprised you haven't sought to be an angel to get some yourself. You like these almost more than you love me."

"My place is at your side," Abal said softly, but firmly, even as she continued her relaxed stroking as she leant into his side a bit more, "no matter what, I am yours and you are mine. Paltry gifts such as those of wings, power and longevity mean nothing."

A slight tickling of his wings on his opposite side drew his slightly blushing face to his son, who was reaching out to gently touch the feathers, his expression curious as his golden eyes gleamed. The Grigori member smiled slightly at his son before his expression changed to a slight frown.

Gently extending his uppermost wing, he manipulated it so that the tip of it tapped gently on the brow of the slightly awed child, "Sleep," the Leader of the Fallen gently sub-vocalised, careful to not let his child hear. His son, even as young as he was, knew something was strange as his body felt heavy and tired so suddenly, he tried to fight and almost succeeded in pushing back the comforting darkness. The second pulse of power from Azazel finished him off though.

The father gently caught his son in his lower wings and brought him to his chest and held him there for a moment.

"Something serious must have happened," Hyder said, his eyes narrowed and face serious, "you have been away for several months and you put your son to sleep after barely a greeting and you aren't falling all over yourself to spend time with my daughter."

The Fallen gently handed off his son to his now slightly apprehensive lover, and he couldn't hate this whole debacle more than that moment. Nothing should put fear into his beloved's features.

Not while he was alive.

"Lay him down to sleep," Azazel said softly to Abal, "and get some sleep yourself, it is going to be long talk."

Golden met hazel in a battle of wills. Abal disliked being thought of as a delicate china doll, something that, while having a modicum of truth in that she was not a true warrior, made her feel insignificant. Unworthy of being by her beloved's side. It was something her love assured her wasn't true, but it still rankled her.

Her partner, her heart, tried to protect her and their child by keeping them away from anything thing, information or otherwise, that could give cause for some part of another Faction to come after them. It didn't always work, given her insistence in being part of his life, the good and the bad, and the fact that her father was a fairly influential person among the various Factions.

Just like any true wielder of _that_ sword was.

In either case, ignorance wasn't bliss to her. She would be part of Azazel's life, all of it, because she was his, and he was hers. It was all more important, now, that she knew what was happening because she had to protect her son, her little Salil.

Against Heaven and the Underworld itself, she would protect her son. She couldn't call herself a mother if she did not.

Azazel must have picked up on the unrelenting determination, as he sighed slightly and broke contact with her eyes, "Fine. Just put him to bed. Come join us when he is settled."

Inwardly filled with a calm sense of victory, she merely nodded her head before moving off deeper into the tent, her precious child in her deceptively delicate arms.

Azazel watched her go with a wry smile, "Stubborn woman, almost nothing can budge her when she makes up her mind."

"But you like her like that," Hyder smirked, "after all, if it hadn't been for that stubbornness, she would have left you when I practically ordered her to do so."

"I suppose I can be grateful for it, just this once," sighed the former Angel.

"Now," Hyder spoke gruffly, his face intent and serious, the mark of a leader and warrior, "enough of the dancing around. What has happened?"

Azazel seemed to age where he sat at the question. For winged man who looked to be in his twenties, he suddenly seemed to have every year he has lived, millennia in fact, to be etched on his slumped body, making him seem to carry a great weight.

"How much do you know about the Civil War amongst the Devils?" inquired Azazel tiredly.

"Pretty much the basics," the Middle-Eastern answered, slightly puzzled, "Descendants of the original Maou wished to keep the war between the Factions going and some of the other families want to pull back and recover, tired of the endless and pointless fighting. Why are you asking? That event was over centuries ago."

Azazel raked his hand through his hair, his wings ruffling in agitation, "For the most part, the battle was over. Unfortunately, a few of the descendants managed to slip through the cracks after the whole bloody dispute ended. They went into hiding, recovering their strength and acquiring more. But they still have the desire, the wish, the hunger to destroy the other Factions and those they deem as traitors to their heritage."

"Okay," the black-haired human drawled, "that is slightly concerning," Hyder sighed in annoyance, looking at the floor of the tent, "the Devils never seem to get anything right and leave the rest of us to clean up their messes."

Azazel grunted in agreement and continued, "The Old Maou or Satan Faction has recently begun to move. Quietly, stealthily. Doing little things that won't draw much attention but serve their goals, immediate or long-ranging.

"And a new war between the Three Abrahamic Factions would be perfect for them."

Hyder paled slightly. He had heard stories of the Great War. Villages, towns, cities, countries. All of these and more had been razed and destroyed as a _side-effect_ of the ongoing battle. The atrocities committed, or let pass, by all sides were beyond heinous. All so that one side or another could win an engagement. Mountains were reduced to rubble, islands sunk, forests burned to ash, even seas became nothing more than large pits of dry sand.

And the humans, his own race, his people, could do naught but suffer through it, too weak to clash against these beings of, to them, colossal power. Even with the rare event of a Sacred Gear user appearing, they were only the smallest of handfuls amongst the sea of millions, maybe even billions. They couldn't be everywhere and even if one was present, there was no guarantee that they would be skilled enough, strong enough, to make difference. Many of those who thought they were... had become a dish for the crows, along with those they tried to protect.

Hyder would do much, dare much, sacrifice much, to ensure such a thing did not happen again.

"How bad is it?" Hyder croaked, a warrior he may be, and a powerful one, but even the best of warriors fears war. Especially if they have something to lose. Like family.

Azazel was quiet for a moment, tired eyes examining his almost-father-in-law closely. The Fallen knew of Hyder's reputation, Hell, who didn't, but he wasn't sure what the old warrior would do if he gave the information out. Humans were never the most rational of species.

"The Grigori managed to catch one of their upper-level spies about a month ago. He was a disciplined, well trained fanatic. The majority of his interrogation consisted of mainly listening to his foul invectives directed towards our ancestry. Attempts to [Mind Delve] or other such spells revealed nothing due to defences placed by a third party that would erase the devil's mind before any information could be obtained."

Hyder's bushy brows beetled for a moment in slight confusion, "Why not have complete suicide conditioning?"

Azazel scowled heavily, "If the prisoner had just died, or was killed in some fashion, we would be able to contain some of the residual power left by his death and magically scan through it in order to obtain various memories and experiences. Remember, it is the soul that holds the memories and the soul lingers even after death. With this defence, it is effectively reformatting, to use a technological term, the soul, making it a blank slate, if it was triggered. The real kicker is that it could be triggered remotely and that actually killing him would simultaneously set it off.

"We found that out when a surge of magic, hidden in his body, exploded like a bomb mid-questioning. That killed around ten personnel, injured twice that and leveled the entire west wing of the Holding Centre. Luckily, none of the prisoners were able to escape in the confusion."

"Ruthless," Hyder breathed in shock.

"What do you expect?" Azazel retorted simply, as if stating a fact, "Still, we were just able to get something from him before he went boom. Wading through all the cursing and snarling and rampant aggression, we managed get the idea that his patrons wanted him to find something. Or rather someone."

Hyder looked at Azazel, his eyes blue eyes narrowed and as hard as stone, as his mind raced desperately to put all the pieces together.

The Arabian man knew the Satan Faction wanted the War to restart but also thought that the Descendants were not stupid enough to throw the first punch that could possibly lead to a two on one fight, Angels and Fallen against the Devils, that he knew the Devils would not win. No, they needed something more subtle, more sneaky, something that would draw both Factions of Angels to seemingly throw the first strike. With a first strike by the other Factions witnessed by the normal Devil populace, the calls for war would be heard, loud and clear, throughout the Underworld.

And the current Satans would be forced to acquiescence or risk complete revolt and annihilation from the other Factions because of a lack of cohesive and directed defence, effectively bringing the original Satan regime, and their ideals, such as they are, back into power.

Which left he million dollar question; What could they do to make that happen?

The green gems on his sword seemed to gleam as Hyder's thoughts went deeper.

It would need to be demoralising, something that would devastate the minds and souls of the other Faction leaders, something so reprehensible that nothing but rage and vengeance would cloud their minds. Instil a drive, deep and strong, to utterly destroy those who had harmed what... was... theirs...

...

The answer came to Hyder like a bolt from the blue, a startling revelation, something that he hoped desperately was incorrect.

"Please," Hyder asked with a growl, his normally dusky skin almost chalk white in rage, his voice wavering in shock and fear and terrible anger, his grip on the hilt of the sword at his side so firm it was rattling quietly in the sheath, "please tell me that they aren't focusing on the children or the heirs."

It made a terrible kind of sense to the sword-wielding Arab. The current Satans, Lucifer and Leviathan especially, were very family oriented and extremely protective of their younger siblings, more than willing to go so far as to completely eliminate a whole tribe or even a Pillar in order to protect them.

There were also the smallest of whispers that Michael, the current God, had a daughter somewhere in the world, probably in Heaven. He was known as being protective of his comrades during the Great War, second only to his loyalty to The Lord. With the death of The Lord, his protective nature was now his primary trait.

And Azazel...

Well, Hyder had no pity for the fools who tried. They would have earned death, by either his blade or his sort-of-son-in-law's.

Hyder could see how it could go. Quiet assassinations of the children, a little bit of planted evidence leading to both of the other Factions like they were working in concert, leaked intelligence of a weak spot in the Devil's defences, conveniently where either the Sitri or Gremory heiress was.

It was a masterful plan and a massive cock up waiting to happen.

That is, provided, that his guess was accurate.

A grim nod from the oddly scowling visage of the Governor General was the final nail in the coffin.

"Fuck," Hyder hissed as he violently stood and began to restlessly pace, his mind moving fast as he sought what solutions he could find.

Azazel began talking again, Hyder listening with half an ear as he kept pacing and thinking furiously, "We don't know much more than what I told you. The rest is all conjecture and theories. But I can assure you of one thing, where there was one spy, there will always be another. You can bet they know we had the little bastard, as shown by his explosive death, and they will take precautions, perhaps even acting before we can prepare a possible counter to their schemes."

"How many know of our existence?" Hyder growled as he continued his walk to and fro. It was an important question. His grandson's and daughter's life were in danger if they were discovered by the wrong people. He may be a warrior, and a damned good one, but he was getting on in years, no longer having the youthful vigour he once had, something that was needed against beings that, at their weakest, could exceed a human's abilities several times over. Skill could even the playing field, or even grant him the advantage, but that could only go so far.

Also, his daughter was not a warrior. Oh, she could defend herself easily enough, but that was only against more human threats rather than supernatural. That said, she would fight like a lioness when it came to protecting her child. Even if it took her life to do so. Something that was likely considering the sheer ruthlessness of the Satan Faction.

His grandson's abilities, whatever they may be, were also not awakened yet, and would remain so unless Azazel chose to unlock them. If he had been born a pure Fallen Angel, his abilities would have been already unlocked at birth. But, with those of mixed blood, certain precautions had to be taken, allowing the body of the child to adapt to the mixed nature of their mind, body and soul. In the past, children of such lineage sometimes went mad due to the clashing of human and Fallen natures and went on a rampage, their powers running rampant, causing death and destruction wherever they went, until either their body couldn't handle it and shut down, causing their death, or were killed in turn by others protecting themselves.

The existence of such beings, and their resulting actions, was one of the main reasons that The Lord had sent the Great Flood.

Thankfully, over the years, a solution was found. By slowly releasing their power in small steps, instead of all at once, it allowed the child to find an equilibrium between their conflicting natures before steadying themselves to allow them to handle more power. This process was slowly repeated until their complete power was unlocked and balanced by their natures. This process generally started between six or seven years old. Young enough for the bodies to be able to adapt to the use of the Light that was the Fallen Angel's power, but old enough to have a sense of self so that their humanity wasn't wiped away thus causing an imbalance which would then cascade to madness.

Salil was a somewhat difficult case. Unlocking a portion of his power, at this stage, was still dangerous, despite him almost being old enough and mentally strong enough. As a half-breed of the strongest of the Fallen, Azazel himself, he had an immense amount of power buried deep inside him that had yet to synchronize with his body, mind and soul through the unlocking ritual. So much that even now, at a mere five years old and Unawakened, his raw power feathered the border between a regular two or four winged Fallen. Something that was much more than an average pure-born equivalent. And it wasn't just the amount of power he had.

It was the potency.

If a regular Fallen's power could be compared to light beer in quality, then Salil's was just a few steps shy of.

As a result, because of the combination, it was still too dangerous to release Salil's power. If it was done now, his body had nine in ten chance of ripping itself apart, even if it was only partially unlocked. The power would just be too much for Salil's partially mortal body to handle.

This, thus, rendered the child as little more than a well trained five year old mortal boy child. Far from a threat to a mature and trained Devil assassin.

"Only two others," Azazel responded to the man's question, bringing the Arab back to the present, "Shemhazai and Baraquiel. I would trust them both with my heart and soul."

"You may just have," Hyder said darkly, his brows beetled and lips pursed in discontent. He had heard of both from various rumours and from the Grigori leader's own lips but had yet to meet them to form an opinion of them. Right now he couldn't take chances with the safety of his family.

Azazel grunted in understanding before he looked puzzled a moment and looked towards the rear of the tent, "Abal should be back by now," he commented, drawing the swordsman to a stop as Hyder's own thoughts caught up with him, attempting to divine how long they had been talking.

A quick mental calculation sent a chill down his spine.

Over fifteen minutes had passed in frenzied discussion. Far too long for Abal to settle an already resting child and not return.

Hyder was moving into the depths of the tent even as Azazel fell into step beside him, both of the men sharing the same dreadful thoughts.

Unceremoniously, Hyder tore down the cloth that separated the sleeping quarters of the mother and child from the main area of the tent, a brilliant blue crackle of dry lightning rushing across it indicating a broken spell, whilst Azazel stood slightly behind him, a Light Spear at the ready.

Whatever nightmare their minds could have conjured, was nothing compared to the harsh reality before them.

Abal lay bleeding on the floor of the tent, her limbs torn off and body mauled as if by an animal, as her breath gasped out, already on it's last legs. Her face was pale and untouched even as her hair mixed with her spilled blood, a formless merging of crimson.

The culprits, all three of them, were also there, frozen still in surprise as they were just about to leave the tent through a hole sliced in the fabric, with little Salil, still asleep and wrapped in a bundle, in tow.

Both sides were frozen for a moment, the air itself became still, awaiting the violence to come.

Hyder roared in anger, his sword swiftly coming to hand as he burst towards those who had most probably killed his daughter. His sword, old and powerful, responded to his righteous rage by burning with a blue-white light, an indication of a Holy Sword. A True Holy Sword.

"Abal!" Azazel shouted in grief, his movements, swift and panicked, bringing him to her side, sliding on his knees before her torn body, the sound of combat ignored by the grief-stricken Fallen. Frantically, he attempted to heal her but knew, deep in his sorrowful heart, that he would be unable to.

"Be-beloved?" his rose choked out in question.

"I am here," he whispered back, trying to staunch the bleeding and place her organ back in the body. The bastards had done as much damage as they could. "I am here, my beautiful rose, just- just hold on."

Azazel could only watch helplessly as his beloved began to fade. There was just too much damage for his meagre skills to heal. If he had more time, if it had happened elsewhere, if the injuries were less serious, she could be healed.

A flicker of inspiration ran through his agile mind, pushing aside his grief for a moment, and lighting a spark of hope within his breast.

He only hoped it worked.

He kept ignoring the battle, even when one of the assailants had fallen and begun to disintegrate into golden sparkles, evidence of a Devil meeting their end by Holy Sword, and reached into the pocket of his coat, withdrawing a large clear oblong blue prism about the size of his hand.

"Sleep," he spoke to his grievously injured lover, his voice a soft croon of comfort even as the battle raged, the rest of the camp now at arms fighting alongside their leader, Hyder. The Devils, however, seemed to have a reserve force that now played havoc amongst the mortals in addition to the trio of bastards.

As his paramour drifted to an uneasy sleep, Azazel didn't waste time. Pointing one end of the crystalline tool at the almost defiled body of his love, he channeled an immense amount of power into it, making it glow a royal purple. Brighter and brighter in glowed as the Fallen forced more of his power into it, before it looked like he was holding a small sun shedding purple light. Finally, it seemed to reach a peak in it's power and a pencil-thin beam of power shot out and struck the sleeping form of the injured Abal.

Abal glowed the same colour as the light, including her detached limbs, before they slowly began to change. From blood, flesh and bone, everything that made up Abal, shifted in form, becoming seemingly glowing energy constructs, even the blood and gore strewn about the floor. If this was any other time, for any other reason, it would have been beautiful.

Azazel was just hoping that this desperate plan would work.

Feeling out for the link the crystal made from his power, Azazel began to draw the flesh turned energy toward the crystal. The constructs floated slowly toward him, slowly shrinking as they did so. By the time they were within a foot of the crystal, they were small enough to fight in the palm of his hand. They floated there a moment before beginning to rotate around his crystal filled hand. Faster and faster they spun until they were naught but a blur, the rotation bringing them in tighter and tighter. With a last pull of his significant power, Azazel sealed the energy within the crystal with a blinding flash.

Azazel watched with a sort of relief as the crystal slowly begin to dim, the light fading with the final flash, before it returned to it's initial appearance as a clear blue crystal prism.

Except for one thing.

Inside the prism, there laid a small female figure, like a doll, with red hair and dusky skin. Her eyes were closed, as if in sleep.

It looked exactly like Abal.

With great care and reverence, Azazel stored the now occupied crystal into his storage space. It would not do for his successful plan, made by the seat of his pants and on the fly, to come undone due to carelessness.

Once that was done, he retuned his senses for the battle. It was easily heard and seen. Great fires, claps of thunder, huge energy discharges, roars of anger and screams of the dying mingled with clangs of metal.

It was the chaos of battle.

Azazel face twisted inhumanly in rage and anger, his wings extending fully, making him look like some bloodthirsty monster.

Many would be correct in that assessment.

"Death," he hissed to himself as he crouched slightly, his muscles coiling for explosive movement, like a great cat about to pounce on it's helpless prey, "may not have been my domain under The Lord, but these **_fools_** will feel my wrath and beg for it before I'm done with them."

With all his strength, he leapt into the air, his wings beating like a powerful drum of war as they carried him aloft. His hazel eyes almost red with rage as they sought out the filth that had dared to attack what was his with deadly intent.

Devils, beware, for your death comes on swift wings.

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_Some time previously_

Hyder roared as he leapt towards his foes. His True Holy Sword glowing brightly, like a sun's ray rather than a mortal blade, as he fed his own power, his own will, into it.

The devils collectively froze for but a moment when he unsheathed his blade, their instincts and fear of such blades halting their movements. Perfect.

The warrior quickly closed the distance, old instincts of battle coming to the fore, and slashed the leading devil, a purple haired pretty boy, with a blow that could have cleft him in twain from shoulder to hip.

The devil fell with a gurgling death cry to the floor, the Arab giving him a good kick to send him to the side for good measure. Unfortunately for Hyder, this snapped the other two out of their mesmeric fear of the Holy Sword. Before Hyder could strike again, the others' wings, bat-like and foul, appeared and flapped furiously, getting them out of reach of the frightening old man with the terrible sword. They had done what they needed to do and had the package they needed to deliver wrapped in a blanket over one of their shoulders. They didn't need to stick around and face such a dangerous enemy, they were assassins not warriors.  
Unfortunately for them, someone wasn't willing to let them go unscathed.

"Get back here, you fucking Devils!" Hyder roared as he chased after the swift flying forms of the filth that had no doubt killed his daughter and kidnapped his grandson. He couldn't help his daughter now, she was in the lap of the divine, but he would be damned if he could not help his grandson.

The camp began to stir quickly, the men of the community swiftly appearing, armed to the teeth with weapons, ancient and modern, mystical and mortal. The quickly saw the situation and responded accordingly. They would not let one of their own be taken by the beasts

"Alalalalalalalalala!" they all yelled in a cry for blood, chasing after the pursuing grandfather and their leader. The few archers and snipers amongst them held back and took careful aim at the fleeing Devils. The filth were fast, but they could still be brought down before they reached the edge of the mystical protections placed around the camp, which prevented them from being able to teleport out.

Swiiiiip!  
Crack!  
Crack!

A volley of arrows and bullets leapt towards their targets, hungry hawks chasing fiendish doves.

The arrow was carefully aimed at the low flying Devil that held the child, aiming not to kill, but to incapacitate.

And what better way to ground a Devil, than to rip off their wings.

Red gore filled the air as the Devil cried out in pain when the blessed arrow struck true, the right wing ceasing to exist as the arrow passed through the flesh and bone that attached it to the body. The devil fell into a spiral, his flight now uncontrolled, before hitting the ground face first with a jarring thud, the miraculously still sleeping child being thrown from his back. The devil groaned in pain as it carefully stood, fighting instincts telling him to rise and ready himself, if he wanted to live.

The second devil was lucky, only one of the bullets hitting him with barely a graze. However, he was forced to swoop down himself in order to retrieve the targeted child that his companion had lost hold of. His intentions were to grab the brat and leave his companion to rot.

His pursuers were firmly against that idea.

Before he could come within grasping distance of the still sleeping child, his left ankle burned and boiled, causing him to scream wildly, before he was pulled by the aforementioned limb to the ground, his face burying itself in the deep sands. The devil lay there a moment, trying to get his bearings, before his instincts screamed.

A wild push of his arms and swift roll to the side, bringing him to his feet, even if one was barely able to touch the ground without blinding pain shooting up his leg, was all that saved his life. He quickly turned to face his attacker.

Hyder grimaced slightly as he withdrew the chain he had used the to ground the devil, letting it retreat back into the hilt of the sword, leaving only the hollow pommel stone to be seen, the four jewels that were embedded on the outside edge of the pommel caught the moonlight briefly as he did so. If he had been a fraction faster, like he was in in his youth, the foul being would have been dead from that chain lash.

Oh well. It just meant he could beat the shit out of it more.

"You damned human," the devil growled, eyes glowing a burning crimson in his rage at being hurt by a, to him, lower being and got into a fighting stance, knowing that he wouldn't be able to get into to the air to avoid the human before he was cut down, "you will pay dearly for this."

"Spare me the bravado and indignation," Hyder scoffed as he strode toward the devil, sword at the ready, "you came uninvited into my camp, killed my daughter, tried to kidnap my grandson and you have the utter gall to believe you did not deserve this!?" Hyder's face at this point was scarlet in anger and rage, the raw power of the sword in his hand responded to his rage, flaring brightly with power, making the devil cringe heavily. Hyder took advantage of it, blurring forward into the face of his adversary.

The cheers of his people along with a devil's dying screams were heard by Hyder, even in his towering rage. The other devil had been killed. Good.

"Join your foul brethren," the leader of the caravan hissed darkly as he came within striking distance of the sole remaining and disabled devil. His sword, his Holy Sword, rising to deliver the death blow.

**BOOOOOOM!  
ROARRRRRR!  
ARGGGGHH!**

A massive concussive force sent Hyder and the devil flying away from each other, the devil landing closer to the still out of it Salil.

Hyder twisted to look at the source of the explosion and paled heavily.

Three massive beings, each between approximately ten and twelve metres tall, each with three massive canine like heads that drooled fire from their open jaws. Their crimson eyes all looked upon the group of human warriors before them with a bestial hunger.

Cerberus. These bastards had Cerberus reinforcements?!

"Fuck!" snarled Hyder, as he watched the Guard Dogs of Hell wreak havoc among his people.

A small chuckle returned his angered focus to the devil. His anger (and fear) doubled as he saw that the bastard had a hold of his grandson.

"It's been fun, human" the bastard chuckled smugly, slowly rising into the air, knowing the human would not attack when he had his claws at the brat's throat, "but I have more important duties to attend to. Ta-ta."

The devil started floating backwards, his eyes locked on the troubled for of Hyder, ready for any attempt at retaliation from the human. So intent was he on the human, he never saw the attack coming from behind.

SPLUUURRRRCH!

The devil froze in pain and surprise, even as his blood and bone started to boil. He coughed slightly as he looked down at his chest, seeing the blade of a crimson light spear protruding from it. A rasping growl filled his sensitive ears as he stared blankly at the weapon.

"That was Abal, you piece of bat shit," growled the angry Fallen, before ripping the weapon out harshly, grabbing his son and violently kicking the devil back to the ground. He would not be getting up again.

Azazel stared angrily at the devil who had come close, far too close, to killing his heart as he began to float down to Hyder, his son in his arms.

"Took you long enough," Hyder growled, his face flushed and now panting heavily, his old body not used to channeling the amount of power he had used for a long time. It had also been a very long time since he had pushed his body to the limits as he had tonight. Now that the adrenaline and rage had worn off, he was now feeling the ache.

"Excuse me if I was focused on saving your daughter first, rather than taking vengeance," Azazel snapped back, his words belied by the gentle grip on his son.

Hyder's eyes widened slightly in surprise before seeming to collapse in relief, "She is still alive then?" he asked hopefully.

Azazel was about to respond when more roars and pained screams split the air, "I'll tell you later," Azazel frowned, pushing the miraculously reposed body of his son into the Arab's arms, "take care of him until I get back. Your people need some help to get rid of the mutts and your not really in good shape."

"Hnn," Hyder grunted in annoyance as he held his grandson, "the side effects of growing old, not that you really know of them."

Azazel didn't respond, simply launching himself into the sky and making bee-line for the massive hounds, his bloodthirsty anger not yet quenched.

Hyder merely watched him go as he parked himself on his ass in the sand, rocking Salil all the while.

"Give them hell, boya" he mumbled to himself as he relaxed.

This was a fatal mistake.

Hyder felt his instincts howled wildly, telling him to move, but he was ill positioned to do so, seated on the ground and with his grandson to protect. Hyder did the only thing he could do.

He blocked the attack.

His body twisted around, sword parallel to the ground in front of him, as he held the Holy Sword before him from the attack from behind. A massive swirling ball of dark power, screeching wildly, interlaced with threads of gold, bore down on the human wielder and his charge. Hyder had barely time to brace himself as the ball of power struck the blade.

Hyder immediately felt like he had been hit by a truck going full speed on a highway. Nevertheless, he braced his body with the Holy power of the sword, making himself stronger, more durable. The two powers, one bright blue and the other black and gold, struggled mightily against each other, putting their full force into it.

Hyder sweated heavily as he tried to push it back, but was unable to. It was an uphill battle of monumental proportions just to keep it from himself and Salil.

While the struggle raged, Salil slowly began to stir, a flash of silver running across his body for a moment.

Hyder's teeth gritted in desperation. His arms felt like noodles and his body a pressure cooker but he still held it back through sheer determination. Then he heard something that made him pale in disbelief.

CRACK!

Hyder's looked at the Holy Sword in disbelief. A nigh indestructible sword of The Lord, was being cracked. Bright light flashed from the cracked blade, even as he still kept the malevolent ball of power at bay.

SCREEEEEECH!  
CRACK! CRACK! CR-CRACK!

Disbelief warred with horror as more cracks appeared, light of many colours beaming from within them, as if the blade contained a sun inside. Thankfully, the ball of power began to slowly reduce in power. It would be a race against time to see whether the sword would break first, or if the ball of power would run out of the magic that fueled it.

The stalemate went on for a few more moments. The sound of cracking steel and quietening screeching was heard in desert, but too silent be heard over the ongoing battle between the hounds and Azazel. It was obvious to Hyder that those hounds were a breed apart from the regular dogs, especially if they could prevent themselves being torn apart in an instant by the enraged Fallen, unlike their brethren.

Finally the stalemate finished.

SCREEEEeeeeech-cha.  
CRACK! Crack! Shatter!

The ball of power was successfully stopped, but at great cost.

The Holy Sword, forged by The Lord himself, lay broken before it's stunned wielder. Smashed into several parts, each of them releasing a rainbow aura that slowly began to dissipate. The exhausted Hyder was beyond thought at seeing the impossible done before him.

Crunch, crunch.

The Arabian man stirred himself from his stupor, holding his grandson close, as the figure who had obviously cast that ball of power approached.

The monster, because what else could he be, came easily up to the kneeling family, unconcerned about any possible reprisals from the human. He, very much a he, was clad in a light-drinking black trenchcoat and black jeans. Black boots with golden tabs adorned his feet, matching the button up shirt he wore beneath the coat. His skin was white, slightly paler than normal, that stood out against the black and gold short hair that adorned his tall head. His eerie heterochromatic eyes, coloured gold and black, peered predatorily down at them.

"Impressive," the monster rumbled, his voice deep, confident and filled with power, " I was expecting for my power to destroy you, not be halted by a Holy Sword."

The monster ignored the two before him as he examined the broken pieces of the sword with a critical eye. A moment passed, Hyder keeping quiet as he attempted to find a way out of this predicament. Trying and failing.

The monster snorted in annoyance, "A pity. I can't identify it as it is now. I would have loved to have known what could possibly have halted even a fraction of my power."

His terrible eyes returned once more to them, "but it should be known, nothing can beat a Dragon."

Hyder's eyes widen as another ball of power, screeching quietly due to the smaller size, formed in the outstretched hand of the monster, pointed directly at them.

Hyder's last thoughts was the hope that Salil would survive.

**_BOOOOM!_**

The monster stared at the point of impact of his power, his hair flaring around him from the shockwave. A crater the size of a house stood where the human and the half-breed had been prostrated was created within the desert sands, like a giant hand had scooped out the area, leaving only a hole where it had been.

The monster grunted in satisfaction before turning on his heel and ambling away, his task accomplished. As he strode, a silhouette of a massive dragon could have been seen enveloping his figure, before it slowly faded from existence, taking the monster with it.

Frantic flapping of feathered wings was heard a few moments later, a blood drenched Governor of the Fallen Angels appearing at the crater's edge.

"Hyder?!" he roared in panic, having felt the disappearance of the warrior human's energy, however small it was, along with his son's, "where are you?! Come out!"

A few more yells and desperate calls yielded nothing to the Fallen. His calls became weaker, came less often, as he looked and looked and listened and listened.

It was as the dawn came, that Azazel finally gave up, sinking to his knees in the pale sand.

It was not the cockerel's cry that greeted the dawn that day, but the howl of an anguished man.

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_Dimensional Gap  
After the monster's attack_

Hyder had thought that when the monster's power had struck his defenceless form, he would be greeted by either oblivion, the Realm of the Dead or perhaps Heaven.

The great pain that struck him as he looked into a kaleidoscopic sky disabused him of that notion.

'_The Dimensional Gap!'_

He realised the danger he was in instantly, along with his grandson. He was already dead, he knew that, as his mental processes were already beginning to scramble just from the brief glimpse of the madness inducing terrain, but his grandson, who had an enormous amount of magical power and had yet to look upon the coruscating rainbow madness of the realm, had a chance at survival, no matter how slim.

Unnoticed around him, the various shards of his broken blade began to glow a pale silver, the same colour as the young Salil. They kept throbbing, pulsing, until they were in synch, before, with a flash that drew even the muddled and dying Arabian man's attention, they disappeared. The silver pulsing of young Salil doubled in intensity for a moment before stopping and vanishing.

H##d#r stared at the young ##li# for a moment, before focusing once more on e###pin#.

His ###s wandered around, looking for hop#.

He saw something. a ##### of moving colo#rs, like the G## but more alive, coming towards them, or maybe just passing by.

_'###nce. ##pe. Saf#.'_

The love of family is a powerful thing, able to breach the realms of logic and law, chaos and disorder. In this case, an old, wounded and dying man, his mind no longer able to reason and think, his body slowly being crushed by the sheer power within the Gap, was able to process enough thought, against any logic and conventional law, to understand that this moving morass of colour may be able to save the life of his precious grandson.

With the last ounce of his depleted strength, the body that once housed the soul of Hyder, threw his grandson towards that moving swirl of colour, so like the Gap, but entirely different.

The empty body, watched blankly as the small form of Salil was engulfed by the swirl as it shot by, taking the child with it to a destination unknown.

The torn soul of H#de# watched in relief as his #####son was saved.

_'Live. Fi##t. Sur###e._' H#### thought, _'Return. Salil.'_

With this final thought, so passed Hyder, Lion of the Sands, Wielder of Shamshir-e Zomorrodnegar.

With a smile on his face.

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_Fuyuki City  
Different Dimension_

The fires of the city raged, reaching hungrily for more victims, despite already devouring many in order to sate their mindless hunger.

Even the figure of a small boy appearing in a rainbow light was not spared.

The boy awoke from his induced slumber to find himself among flames. He scrambled to his fight and tried to run, his paths blocked by flames even as he ran. Narrowly dodging some of the flickers and tongues, after a time, he began to slow, his energy tired and sapped.

He slowed to a lifeless walk, his eyes taking in the horrors amongst the burning city unflinchingly, already having given up his sympathy as he marched onward.

His slow plod, step by step, reduced more and more off himself. His memories, emotions, his thoughts. All of these slowly slipped away, fuel for the flames to prevent his body from being devoured.

Eventually, he had nothing left to give, nothing left to hope for, nothing left to drive him forward, and let himself fall, awaiting the death he knew would come as he closed his tired eyes.

The sound of whispered pleas and gut-wrenching sobs brought the child with no name back to conciousness, the voice sounding so familiar yet so strange. His eyes slowly opened to look at the tear-streaked face of a dark-haired man. Yet, the man with tears in his eyes, still looked like the happiest man of earth with a smile of complete wonder and relief and joy.

'_I wish I could smile like that.'_

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Well folks, here is the prologue of my new story. It may be a bit long, for a prologue, but I really needed to set the scene. I hope this meets your approval.

A few quick mentions though. First, I have decided on what Sacred Gear Shirou will have. It wasn't any that any of you helpful people sent in, but it was insprired by some them, a throw away idea I had and a recent book I have just read. It may or may not be of a Longinus level. So please do not send in any more ideas. Unless it is for minor Sacred Gears to be used by other characters.

Secondly, this story will be a bit more complex than most I have attempted. Similar to Campione, the universe of DxD is both broadly expansive, ill-defined (like how exactly magic works) and completely over-powered (Dimension Lost anyone?). So I have no real limits but also have little in the way of foundation to build on. Let us see how it works.

Thirdly, my apologies for the Raiser comment I made. But you guys have to understand, when I said high-level in Nasuverse, I meant powerful magi and creatures in comparison to most of the general supernatural populace, not the game breakers like the Dead Apostle Ancestors, Types and what have you. I personally put them in a league of their own in regards to Nasuverse characters and would easily contend them with their counterparts in DxDverse. Though DxD stills had beings that stand above even the best of the best of the best in Nasuverse. Ophis, Great Red, Sirzechs and a fair few others.

As for Shirou not being top dog, you are completely correct. _Canon_-Shirou wouldn't even get a sniff. _My_ Shirou, on the other hand, is a different kettle of fish. I will go into depth for this comparison at a later date, but be prepared for a butt-kicking Shirou. Even if he still isn't top dog, he will still be powerful enough for most to give him a very wide berth. In fact, Altrouge or the Queen of the Clock Tower would most likely cross the street than face him. The Blue, Zelretch or other stupidly strong and mad as a hatter morons might give him pause though.

Thank you for reading and please leave a review.

Your favourite authour,  
kujikiri21


	2. Chapter 2

On Steel Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own Fate/Stay Night or High School DxD

Author Notes:  
Okay folks, I have heard more than enough. Many of you have written complaining that I have pretty much written off the Nasuverse elite as chump change against DxD. On further reflection, I think you may have a point, but I still believe that DxD are enourmously powerful (Ophis, Great Red, the Ten, Sirzechs (true form) and many others). So, in order to end this debate, I will call it down the middle. The elite in one world are equal to the other. Period. No changes. This may gripe some of you lore-mongers and Nasu-purists but I am trying to make it fair. I also take back that Raiser comment, it was in poor taste and I apologise for it. If any of you out there still want to fight out which verse is stronger, keep me out of it. This is _Fanfiction_. Nothing is ever exactly like canon, otherwise we wouldn't have good stories and they wouldn't be fanfiction in the first place.

Also, despite arguments against it, I am placing Types on equal ground with Great Red. I am pretty sure not much is touching them in either lore except for specially designed tricks (Black Barrel, Samael the Dragon Eater etc). This is my final word and I will hear no more flames about it. If you have problems with this, the Back button is on the top left and the Big Red X is on the top right, feel free to use them.

Lastly, as a warning to you all, as Shirou's birth is different than what it was, the Fifth Holy Grail War will not follow any definite route. It will be a mish mash of the various routes but focused on Heaven's Feel, along with some original scenes, that will create the back ground of this story. This story will have flashbacks and will explain the past in the thoughts and musings of the characters.

Now on with the Show!  
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Chapter 1

It was a peaceful night in Fuyuki, cool enough for comfort and warm enough to not need a coat. A slight breeze blew, not letting the air stifle. The clouds were absent and the moon, round and full, cast it's weak silver light on all below. The sound of a great bell in the distance marked the hour. It was, in all, a night to enjoy for the many who lived here.

But, for a small group of people, it was a night that would not be forgotten, full blood and horror.

Flap, Thrum, Flap, Thrum.

The sound of massive wings flapping, dragging their owner through the air, could be heard, if these unknowing folk had focused.

" When I get my hands on that piece of worm shit," a male voice growled, interspaced with the movement of his black wings through the air, "death will seem a sweet release."

"Only if you get him first," a female voice, lyrical and musical, answered over the sound of her mount's wings, "I still have a debt of blood to pay to the filth."

The male voice rumbled in discontent, his steely golden eyes glancing over at the blindfolded female, "you could kill him," the winged male concurred with a bob of his head, "but you can't make him stay dead," the air generated by his flight caused the shoulder length red hair, flecked with white, to flip about his face as he shook his head, "no, it would be best if I took care of him."

The rider huffed her discontent, leaning forward along her pristine mount's neck to give a pat, "I don't like it." she said bluntly, "Sakura is my master, I should be the one to help her."

"And she is my dearest friend," the male responded quickly, "I honestly don't care who saves her, but you are not the best one suited to fight the piece of shit. I am."

"And what of the Kings?" Rider retorted, her purple hair flying in the wind, "I may be a Servant of some power, especially with you killing that filth Shinji when he forced me to activate Blood Fort Andromeda and allowing my contract with Sakura to return. I could maybe defeat Saber but the King of Heroes is not someone I can defeat, even on my best day."

The winged man snarled slightly in remembrance of that arrogant murderer, the one who had killed Saber, only to allow the worm to resurrect her in a mockery of a form. The same would have happened to Rider had he not managed to heal her with the Avalon within him. He wasn't entirely sure why a King with such pride would suffer the existence of this mockery, but he honestly didn't care.

Gilgamesh and Zouken would die this night, this he swore.

Saber will be freed of her torment, this he believed.

Sakura will be saved, this he knew.

This was his will, his drive. His desire.

"Saber we should be able to manage," Shirou said carefully, pushing down his rage, "the Saber we knew is dead and gone, replaced by this black puppet. It may be a little stronger, but it isn't as fast or agile, nor does it have the defence of Avalon. My guess, it will be stationed as a guard until Zouken can complete the rite. They already have the White Grail when they killed Ilyasviel and tore out her heart. If they can extract the Black Grail that Zouken implanted in Sakura, then, with the addition of the power of the Servants that have already fallen, they will not need to kill the rest of the Servants, ie you and True Assassin, to activate the Greater Grail due to the build-up of power from all the unused wishes in the previous wars. At least, that is what Rin thinks."

"And Gilgamesh?" Rider quietly inquired, digesting the rather disturbing information she had received.

"Right next to the worm. Arrogant and hedonistic Gilgamesh may be, but he isn't stupid. He will be right next to Zouken to ensure the old sand-worm doesn't pull a fast one."

"It makes sense," mused Rider as the ground and city rushed by below them, "each of their goals are similar, to a point, from what we know. It would only be at the last moment that a change would be needed. Gilgamesh wants nothing more than to erase the world and rebuild it from the ground up and Zouken only wants to see someone once more, each of them requiring the Grail."

"Precisely," Shirou affirmed, "It is also likely that Assassin will be lying in wait either with the remnant of Saber or around the other two," Shirou smirked a little, sharp and harsh, "but he will be a non-entity. His little heart trick will only work on humans, something that I am not, at least entirely. This will force him to fight on similar grounds to myself, in muscle and blade."

Both of them smirked at each other for a moment. Both of them knew that if Assassin faced Shirou on his own ground, he would be dead before a heartbeat had passed.

It still shocked Rider that a being so similar to those in her original time, a true demi-being, was around in this day and age, despite the decline of Magic and loss of the Age of the Gods.

Golden eyes sharpened slightly as they locked on to their destination. It wasn't far now.

"Get ready," Shirou warned, as he began to lower his altitude to land, "we aren't far now."

A understanding nod came from the rider of the beautiful pegasus.

As they both circled to land, Shirou couldn't help but grimace in distaste, "_Why Gilgamesh and Zouken had set up shop where Caster was defeated by us, I will never know. I honestly thought he had more pride than to use a Temple, given his dislike of the gods._"

The two sharply banked, bringing them close to ground, before flaring their respective wings and landing with a soft pat and a gentle series of clops.

Rider swiftly dismounted before banishing her mount back to the World Within and joining the now unwinged man in his staring up the long series of stairs. Their sharp eyes, beyond any humans, could faintly make out the shape of person at the top of them, standing firmly in the middle of the great red torii gate. Even from where they were, all the way at the bottom of the stairs, they could feel the unrestrained malevolent power of the being above them, reflecting the blood stained and blackened armour the duo could make out.

Rider was somewhat unnerved by the raw power coming off the existence above them, "Any particular reason we didn't land closer up there?" she asked, in order to hide her unease, even as she let her chained nails appear in her grasp.

"Bounded field," he grunted as he calmly made the first step up the long stairs, "It won't allow any being, spiritual or physical, enter the grounds except by that gate and those stairs," Shirou fiddled with a golden coin attached to a fine golden necklace around his neck, "Caster should really sue for copyright over this," he joked with a huff.

"Your sense of humour needs work," Rider responded dryly, a step behind the young man.

"I'll work on it if we survive," he said grimly, his firm stride bringing up the stairs to his goal.

Whether he would succeed or fail, is up to him.

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Saber Alter, the Dark-Tainted Tyrant watched emotionlessly as her adversaries climbed the steps to their doom.

She had clashed with these two before, even been the Servant of the red-haired boy, but he did rule her now.

Only _They_ did. In _Her_ name.

She remembered the Golden King. How could she not, when he had faced her on the battlefield, every inch her equal or superior. At one point, it seemed he desired her for whatever reason. That soon died with his new goal within his reach. His disgust at her was also evident after she had Blackened. Nonetheless, he was the one who gave her orders to halt any that approach, and as a knight, she must obey. Even if he did not have her Command Spells.

Then again, her other master didn't either.

Bald, bent and thin as a twig. Matou Zouken didn't look like a threat at all. Right up until his worms tore you apart and devoured you. Saber honestly thought his mind was disturbed and black as pitch, but it was not her place to question. His orders were in _her_ name.

_She_ was a girl to be pitied. Wrecked and despoiled. Beaten down and broken but still having a quiet pride as she endured. Saber was surprisingly content to serve under her, someone who could, perhaps, understand a fraction of herself.

Now if she could only give the orders herself, it would be even better. But _They_ said she was incapable of talking, and that she chose _Them_ to be used as her voice. So Saber obeyed _their_ words, now matter how much she disliked them. Such was her duty.

Even if that annoying voice in her mind disagreed.

Saber Alter examined her enemies, in an attempt to stave off the voice's persistent cries.

The first one, walking just behind the other, was the Servant Rider. She had seen the purple haired female remove her blindfold in order to use the Mystic Eyes of Petrification that they hid. In doing so, she had revealed herself to be Medusa, Queen of the Gorgons. That chain had been troublesome to fight against, she remembered. Fast, unpredictable, stealthy and not afraid to use tricks. If not for her mount, the Assassin class would have been suitable for her, if not for the Hashshashin prerequisite for the class. Rider also seemed to be stronger somehow, than last they met. Perhaps a more competent master than that rat, Shinji.

The other, oh the other. Mid-shoulder length flowing red hair, flecked here and there with white, piercing golden eyes that seemed to almost glow, a tall, muscular and toned body that was clung to tightly by the crimson shroud-coat, a possible last gift from the fallen Archer, black cuirass and black trousers and boots, a grim visage and an aura of power that was almost palpable to her. He was the biggest threat. His skill at arms was on a par with her own, his physical prowess, impossibly, was also a par, even with his part-human nature. Even when she was contracted with him, drawing upon his power, he was still able to match her in spars, point for point. She could see his favoured weapon, but knew he could call it forth in an instant. Along with any other weapon he had seen. Even Noble Phantasms, to her initial disbelief.

Still, she had let them advance far enough, time to bring down the hammer.

"Intruders," she spoke, causing them to halt a single set of stairs below her, "I give you this one warning: Retreat now, and Survive. Approach further, and you will die.

"What is your choice?"

Golden and blindfolded eyes locked with her black, a silent contest of wills. The two then glanced at each other for a moment, before nodding sharply...

And took one step forward.

"So be it," Saber announced, pulling the sword from the ground where it had rested, as Caliburn once had in the Stone, "you have elected the way of Death. May The Lord have mercy upon you, for I will not."

The black prana leaking off of her focused tightly around her for a fraction of a second, before she shot forward in a large leap towards the duo, the ground beneath her armoured feet, cratered by the force applied to it. The tainted sword of Excalibur Morgan, leading the way.

Below, Servant Rider flashed forward, nails in hand and chains whirling. Shirou, the Steel Rain, allowed two curved blades, made of purest blue light, appear in his hands, before leaping to meet the Blackened Saber.

And thus, battle was joined.

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Shirou had the feeling he had have underestimated Saber Alter's power, just a bit, as he clashed her sword with his, before being tossed back with a grunt. Rider was quick to take advantage, lashing out with the sharp nail, before it was deflected by the deceptively fast sword. If that tainted piece of steel could be called such.

Just looking at that sword, feeling the history of it, knowing the atrocities it had wrought, made him want to hurl, but mastered the feeling enough to fire a multitude of light weapons at the black puppet.

Blue lights, crafted in the form of weapons, flashed down on the corrupted Servant. Each of them deadly, each of them powerful. They came in a rain, too many to stop.

Or so he thought.

The mockery of Saber let her vile prana gather about the sword, a swirling mass of darkness, before slashing upwards with a shout, "Haaaaaaa!"

A massive arc of diseased prana swept out from the sword, a line of destruction through the air, destroying all of his constructs.

Obviously, this puppet had deeper reserves of power and more strength than he had previously thought. The original Saber could not have done that, not without using Excalibur at it's highest potential. She would have dodged it with Prana Burst instead or used Invisible Air, which this shadow of her didn't seem to have. Obviously the corruption had given a few more perks. Another glance at the sword revealed the mystery of the ability to him.

'_An altered form of her Prana Burst? How troublesome.'_

Despite his surprise, he continued to battle, dropping the rain of weapons, before surging forward at his foe.

"Trace...On," he muttered to himself, triggering his circuits and spell as he rushed.

New blades began to appear in his fingerlessly gloved hands, not mere simple constructs of light, something he had been able to use since he was but a child, but true steel. Steel that had been forged without pride or desire to kill. Only crafted for the sake of crafting. One of them white, one of them black, representing the yin and yang.

Kanshou and Bakuya. One of a series of final gifts from the Counter Guardian EMIYA, a twisted mirror of himself.

Rider had been quicker to recover, not bothering to analyze the technique beyond the obvious, and dashed in again, a purple flash amongst shadows of the trees beneath the moon. As the filth was recovering from the vertical arc of power, the corrupted Servant was left open, a chance Rider was more than willing to take. The Servant of the Mount was inside the effective range of the blade in an eye blink, and quickly slashed out with the dagger at the corrupted one's left shoulder. Blood, deep and black, spurted from the wound and Rider quickly dodged away from the retaliatory strike of the black sword. It was not a fatal wound, but that wasn't what Rider was aiming for.

The now hanging and disabled left arm made the Gorgon smile grimly, her task done. Without the left arm, this mockery of Saber shouldn't be able to pull off any power attacks like she had before. The old adage of 'you can't stand, you can't fight' could be applied quite well to a sword-wielder and their arms.

Saber Alter growled in a feral tone as the Rider managed to disable her arm, ripping tendons and muscles from the bone with the nail-shaped dagger she wielded. She couldn't use her more powerful attacks, but that was only temporary, even now she could feel her flesh repair itself, drawing on the immense prana within her to do so.

But it was still too slow for her to be able to fully defend the charging red-head.

Shirou was conflicted as he charged in. Despite his resolve to free Saber of her torment, he found it difficult to focus any intent to kill the thing that wore the visage of a friend. With his rain of weapons, he could tune out the somewhat happy memories they had shared enough to attack her, up close was another matter. Staring into the face of a friend as he tried to steel himself to end her life was quite difficult.

But it was possible.

The one handed defence of the broadsword met the twin blows of the chinese blades in a clash of steel. The stairs cracked and broke beneath the force that almost sent Alter staggering, but she managed to hold on and defend. Shirou bore down, trying to make her kneel, even as his blades began to crack. He only needed a moment to keep her still.

Then, the cry he had been waiting for echoed in the night.

"Bel-!" cried Rider as large sigil appeared in front of her, like a giant eye, peering down at the struggling combatants, previously hidden by her companion's taller body until she had begun to announce her most powerful attack.

Alter had obviously heard it as well and, knowing the significance, reacted harshly, raw power seeping into her limbs and shoving Shirou away hard, just off centre into the trees, then preparing to confront the more immediate threat. Massive amounts of black prana surged about her blade as she prepared her counter, her wound now healed in reaction to her frantic thoughts, "Ex-!"

"Lero-!" Rider continued, a dangerous light starting to appear within the sigil.

"Cali-!" Alter's voice yelled, increasing in volume, along with the insane amount of prana being channeled into Excalibur Morgan. A great pillar of darkness reaching for the sky.

"Phon/Bur !" they yelled in unison, their final attacks leaping out at their foe, a beam of shining light seeking to pierce and destroy the foe and a towering pillar of darkness and despair slashing down like the fist of an evil god in wicked judgement.

From even an outsider's point of view, it would be clear to them that the dark unholy pillar had the advantage in power and could easily overwhelm the bright beam. If the beam was the hope of the world, then hope would fade and die very soon.

Luckily, there was more hope to be found.

Shirou burst from the trees he had been tossed into by Alter's raw strength amplified by a brief Prana Burst, his wings, all six of them, extended as they pumped him through the air towards the nightmarish piece of black power as it descended. Foolishly, to most, he spurred himself towards it, even as a golden light gathered in his right hand, so different from either his Traced weapons or light weapons. It flashed for a moment before revealing itself.

A shamshir, plain as they came, save for the four emeralds inset into the odd off-centre pommel in a diamond formation. The simplicity of the design was, however, ignored in favour of the sheer amount of power Shirou was packing into it, until it fairly blazed with power.

Shirou floated a moment, watching as the darkness in the shape of a blade descended upon him, his blue-white glowing blade held in both hands as if ready to, impossibly, counter the castle destroying attack.

"I really hope this works," he rumbled to seemingly no-one, "because if it doesn't? I'll be dead, you'll be dead and I will continue to haunt you, wherever you go."

Shirou heard a deep bass rumble of laughter, like some giant beast attempting a human gesture of humour, "**It should work quite well, little sword. That sword you hold is no slouch in the power department. You just need to believe**."

Shirou sighed slightly as he readied himself to slash, "We can talk later, you over-sized furball. If there is a later." he ignored the grumbled response from the steel bracers that appeared over the forearms of his crimson coat.

The harbinger of despair, the colossal blade of impurity and wretchedness, was close to the young half-human when he slashed it with the humming blade of bright blue power, in unison speaking commandingly, "Shift!"

"**Shift**." his bracers answered as the sword connected to the foul power.

Against all logic, a bright blue line of power, thin as paper, incredibly, _sliced through_ the eclipsing pillar of dark might, cleaving it in twain. Having lost it's connection to it's user, the top three quarters of the immense dark blade lost cohesion and power, returning to a cloud of relatively harmless dark prana that washed around the swordsman, avoiding him and his sword as if they were dangerous to it.

Shirou relaxed slightly, letting the no longer glowing curved sword hang loosely in his right hand, even as he rubbed his slightly tense arm. The strike he had done, while requiring a fair amount of energy, which he could easily provide due to prodigious number, quality and extremely unique nature of his circuits, also required a degree of physical ability that was beyond even the best of humans. Even with his non-human heritage, he was still susceptible to the human condition ie he could be injured greatly if he overstrained himself. Using the sword and the Gear, alongside the large amount of power was not something he had practiced greatly, thus resulting in an almost strained arm. Thankfully, Avalon seemed to be healing it well enough

But now was not the time to stand about. Time to see if his plan worked out.

Shirou carefully began to glide down to the smoke filled crater left by the clashing powers. Shirou nodded briefly at Rider, who was cautiously approaching the crater as well. It seem that the plan had worked so far. With him slicing off the majority of Alter's attack, it had more than leveled the playing field between Bellerophon and Excalibur. Shirou judged, from the last position of Alter, that Bellerophon had overcome the weakened Excalibur beam and had struck the, probably, very surprised Alter.

He could still smell her power, like blood and earth and offal, so the mockery was still alive. But just how much so, if she wasn't attacking, was the real question.

Gathering power into the bracers, he firmly pushed forward at the air itself, similar to the Jedi in Star Wars (a guilty pleasure he had watching them).

"**Shift**," they announced suddenly and, quickly, the smoke and dust was dispersed, as if in a great wind or pushed aside by a great hand, revealing the sorry state of Saber Alter.

Her upper right torso was completely gone, the shoulder and arm vanished and likely incinerated. Perhaps not so amazingly, her sword lay on the same side, unbent or broken, merely existing in the state of blood-tainted black. The rest of her chest armour was shattered, leaving jagged, ungainly pieces still strapped to the chest, leaving a heavily burnt and injured torso bared to the world. Her legs, armour and flesh, were completely shattered, look like nought more than butchered and pulverized meat. Her left arm, surprisingly, was still intact, even if it wasn't able to move due to very heavy stone that had obviously landed, broken and pinned it down. Her face, once so beautiful before she was corrupted, was completely untouched, letting her stare apathetically at them as they approached. Shirou could see the faint amount of healing of the extremely heavy wounds, but it was slow, as if the power knew that there was no point in doing so.

"So," the corrupted version of Saber rasped, "I am finally defeated."

"You were," Shirou answered coolly, a fragment of pity was felt for this tortured existence as he stood over her, "but you can take this to your grave: It took two to defeat you, not one."

Alter chuckled bloodily, her white teeth stained with the blackish red ichor that now ran through her veins, "that is something," she agreed with a death's head grin before a light green light, so like her original, filled her eyes, "can I ask for something? A last request?"

Shirou felt a tug at his heart, the voice so different from her original sternness and more recent apathy, but containing a fragment of final desperate hope. It was not something he could deny the King of Knights, not when he had experienced her life, from beginning to end, letting him know her better than he knew himself.

"What is it?" he gently asked, taking a knee beside the fallen King.

"T-take," she stuttered, forcing her words out through the pain, "take m-my will."

Shirou's eyebrows narrowed in confusion at her words, before they widened again as he felt a something shift within him. It was not the Sword, which he still bore. It was not the Gear, he could feel even the fur-face startle in confusion.

That left only one thing.

He could suddenly feel the ideal of the King that lay before him, smell the faint scent of honeysuckle on the soft night breeze, as Avalon, the Everdistant Utopia, accepted a new master at the previous one's request

It accepted him as master.

Eyes wide, he stared at, the now, softly smiling woman King, her eyes once more the light green they were and her hair again was blonde, "Take my will," she said again, mustering the rest of her strength to ensure her words were clear, even if the strain did not show on her face.

"And let me rest."

Shirou looked at the King, so relaxed and accepting on the surface, but desperately crying beneath that mask. As a friend, even if it was only for a short time, he knew what he had to do.

Shirou rose back on his feet, back straight and tall, his wings flared wide and holding his sword by the pommel with the point down.

"I, Shirou Emiya," he declared, to her, to the world, to himself, "do hereby accept the will of Arturia Pendragon, King of Knights. To fight for peace. To defend the weak. To cast down evil. To reach that Utopia, with my loved ones by my side."

He gently lowered the point of the sword until it rested just between her breasts, directly over her heart. Arturia smiled softly at him, thankful and sad.

"Close your eyes," he said gently, hypnotically, watching as she did so, "sleep and dream. Dream the dreams of better worlds."

Shirou waited a moment, until the face of the one he called Saber, slowly slipped into a peaceful expression.

Then thrust the sword down sharply, the resistance less than water, less than air.

Her death was so swift, her expression never changed from the peaceful sleep.

Thus passed Arturia Pendragon, King of Knights, King of Britain, The Once and Future King.

And the Throne of Heroes, filled with her faithful knights, welcomed her home.

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Rider watched on as Shirou stared at the dissipating form of Saber after retracting his wings, who was no longer under the sway of the mindless devouring madness of the Grail. She had been an opponent to Rider, not really a person, but an obstacle, thus she shed no tears. But even she couldn't help but feel thankful that another being was no longer being corrupted by the 'Shadow' and empathise with Saber's plight, so similar to her own twisted form and mentality in her Monster Gorgon state.

But she did not truly matter, only Sakura did.

Shirou sighed and yanked the his blade from the remains of the stairs where Saber had met her end, "We best get moving," he spoke softly, his eyes tired but resolved as he looked at her, "this was but one task. We have many mo-"

A blur shot past Rider, interrupting Shirou's words, much to her shock and surprise. Before Shirou could even react, the figure was in front of him, a white skull mask staring directly into his golden eyes as a scythe-like red arm, filled with the form of a beating heart was pressed against his chest.

"**Zabani**-urrk! Aaaaaah!" True Assassin declared with a warped voice, activating his sole Noble Phantasm, until he was interrupted by a bone crushing palm to solar plexus, the offending arm seemingly coated in steel, etched with tiger-like stripes, stopping the activation of the deadly technique. His scream of pain was due to Shirou using that eyeblink to recover and lash out his sword, cutting directly through the phantasmal limb.

Assassin was thrown back from the force of the first blow and too disoriented by the pain of the second to sense the incoming strike from Rider.

Assassin fell without even seeing the nail enter the base of his skull.

Shirou let out a slow breath as Rider shook the fading corpse of the Assassin Servant off of her weapon, "Thanks for the help fuzzy," he spoke in relief, his heart still hammering from the close shock of death, even if he may have survived it due to his heritage.

His bracers growled slightly, the metal over his arm slowly receded back into the bracer, "**You can thank me by not calling me 'Fuzzy**'."

"You can be Furry then," Shirou shot back, much too the irritation of the old spirit, before it growled again and subsided into silence.

"You are well?" Rider inquired, looking at him with a raised brow.

"Y-Yeah," he answered shakily, "yeah, just a little surprised," he ended firmly.

"Good," she answered, turning on her tall heels and walking up the stairs once more, "then let us not dally about. We have things to attend to."

Shirou got serious once more, his face going blank, and quickly followed her, catching up with her as she passed through the torii gate.

Side by side, they prowled onward. They would save Sakura.

Whatever the cost.

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"Any idea where we go from here?" the sensual Gorgon asked as they walked through the immense courtyard of Ryuudou Temple. The dark of the night, the faint moonlight and the empty quiet, all contributed to the eerie feeling of the place. Not that the lingering presence of Caster's sinfully malicious power helped at all.

It made even the Gorgon, a monster in beauty's form, somewhat uncomfortable.

"Quite well," Shirou assured, his steps firm and light, ready to move at a moments notice, "Zouken made a small mistake when he managed to take Sakura. He may have been able to hide Sakura's power, at least within this place, but he forgot to hide his own diseased trail. Though, if it wasn't for my own extremely sharp senses, it would have been to faint for anyone to make out. He just underestimated them."

Rider nodded in understanding as they exited the courtyard and into the main building of the Temple.

We moved quickly after that, going directly through the constructions, following the faint trail of worms and rot. Soon, we were out of the back of the temple, moving easily through the forest. Shirou was getting a little annoyed and impatient, he honestly thought that the initial families would place the Greater Grail somewhere more accessible, to them anyway.

The trail came together at the edge of a small stream, joining with a scent that screamed of gold and hedonism, no doubt it was Gilgamesh.

A sharp glance with his powerful eyes showed Shirou the small cave entrance the water lead from, a quick use of Structural Grasp showed the depths of it, and the sheer amount of power beneath it.

Target confirmed

"This is it," he said quietly to Rider, "the way seems to be pretty narrow though, enough for one person only, until it opens up further down. Can you go into Spirit Form? Will the power of this place affect you?"

"Yes and no." she said simply flickering from existence. However, Shirou's inhuman eyes allowed him to see the now transparent Servant.

"Good," he said, "then let's go."

Shirou began to crawl down the small tunnel, the dark and dampness stifling. Even worse, as he approached the deeper tunnel, the mana in the air became thicker and thicker, a heavy pressure sitting over him.

Shirou finally emerged from the small tunnel, the larger one widening and welcoming him and the just reappeared Rider. He estimated that they were easily a hundred meters down from the surface, probably more, possibly under the lake if the luminous green moss coating the cave walls was any indication.

The air seemed to be almost alive, life in the form of mana and od practically pulsing visibly in it, like a great heart. Or a womb. It should have made those in it's presence feel joy and happiness.

Shirou just wanted to vomit.

This was like life without restraint. A cancer. A bulbous tumour upon the earth. All he could smell was the sickly sweet scent of rot.

It just made Shirou more determined to destroy the source of this abomination, this blight.

Even Rider seemed vaguely disturbed, her face crinkled with distaste as it looked around.

"Come on," he muttered quietly, trudging into the larger cave, Rider following close behind.

The magus and Servant, who were not Master and Servant, walked down the expanded tunnel, eerie echoes of their footsteps coming back to them as they advanced. As they walked, Shirou couldn't help but think that even Rin, for all that is one of the best examples of magi, in power and thought, even she would be repulsed by the sheer malevolence that spewed from her family legacy.

It was perhaps better that she was unable to follow, her injuries during the war preventing her from even walking at this point in time and not even Avalon could have healed her and still have enough time for them to stop the rite.

She was still with us though, in spirit, and she lay her hopes of destroying this Grail, this twisted existence, in my hands. I will not disappoint.

The tunnel went further and further, almost seemingly forever. We couldn't afford to rush our steps here, even if time was of the essence. We could run headlong into a trap if we weren't careful.

Shirou's ears felt like they were playing tricks on him as an odd sound was heard.

Clink. Scrape-scrape. Clink.

...  
Cling!

C-Cling.

It was an oddly familiar sound to Shirou. As one who generally cooked and served meals in his home, the sound of someone eating a meal was easy to discern. Rider looked wary, perhaps not understanding the sounds entirely but knowing it was out of place in this barren world of stone.

Shirou had a small idea what could be doing this, but even he couldn't bring himself to believe that _that Man _had that much arrogance. Nonetheless, the sound came from beyond them, towards their goal. The cause would soon be revealed.

And so it was.

The tunnel soon opened up further into a large cavern, perhaps the size of the his school grounds, with the ceiling obscured by the darkness.

It was also occupied.

"Welcome, mongrels," sneered Gilgamesh as he sat on a regal throne-like chair, a small table in front of him topped with a plate, recently cleared of food, made of pure gold and accompanied by fine silver utensils. A half empty golden wrought goblet of wine was delicately swirled in his hand as he reclined on his throne.

"I was expecting you to arrive earlier," the Golden King scoffed as the table and utensils vanished in a stream of golden sparks, "you must be lower trash than I thought," he glanced at the tense Rider, "and you brought the snake witch. More company? Or a witness for your demise?"

"Merely someone with a vested interest in Sakura," Shirou responded coolly, mentally readying himself for a battle, " and thus, your foe."

Gilgamesh barked a laugh, "to call her a foe is demeaning. She is merely food for the dogs, not yet sliced."

"Where is Sakura?" Shirou asked, ignoring the King's taunts. If he fell to anger now, he would probably end up dead in a moment. The King of Heroes was not someone to take lightly, despite his overwhelming arrogance.

"You mean the Vessel?" he smirked, crimson eyes gleaming cruelly, "she is just being finished up in preparation for the final performance."

"And you are not there?" Shirou retorted, his mind racing now, time was running out, "You trust Zouken that much?"

"The worm knows what it means to disobey a King," Gilgamesh growled lightly, "he would not dare."

"You are a fool then, King of Heroes," Rider said flatly, getting into the ready stance she preferred, her hand wandering close to the edge of her Gorgon Breaker, ready to unleash her deadly Mystic Eyes, the other one held her deadly nail-and-chain combo weapon, ready for use.

It was time to fight now. Words would do nothing more.

"You dare!" growled the King of Uruk, crushing the goblet in his golden mailed fist, the wine flowing like blood over the appendage. He stood quickly, slamming the throne backwards, toppling it, his gestures angered.

Huge amounts of golden circles, gateways to the Golden Capital, the Treasury of the King, began to appear behind the enraged tyrant. Out of them, treasures of the world, the prototypes of a great many Noble Phantasms used by future heroes, slowly appeared, like cannons on a great ship aiming at another.

Shirou's eyes glazed slightly as they viewed, again, the many weapons and items stored within, cataloguing within his mind to be recalled at a future time. Despite the slight distraction, he slid into his normal stance, slightly crouched and light on his feet, ready to move anywhere at anytime, his favoured sword, one that had been with him for so long, ready in his hands.

'_You ready, Old Cat?'_ he mentally asked, glancing at his simple steel bracers, an oddly tiger striped design seemingly etched into the metal.

'**Ready when you are, Partner**,' responded the bracers, a ripple of white and black stripes briefly visible on them before disappearing.

"DIE!" roared the King of Heroes, his treasures shooting forth like missiles, barely able to be seen due to the speed they traveled.

At least, for normal eyes.

Rider showcased why she had earned her class, her footwork precise, her body positioning perfect, as she ran and dodged the rain of weaponry with all the grace of a dancer. Her eyes were wide open, her blindfold gone, as she ran. She needed every advantage she could get against this formidable adversary. She glanced at the crimson back of her ally as she parried a few of the flying weapons.

Whereas she had to dodge the falling steel, Shirou seemed deadset on ploughing through it. His sword swung in quick arcs, practically parrying the veritable moving wall of sharp steel as he charged. His speed and agility was impressive, even for a Servant, and astonishing for a human, or even a half-human. He dodged what he could not parry by mere slivers of space, never letting up on his advance.

He was soon in front of the beyond furious and astonished tyrant. The Fake Crow had never shown such skill in the previous engagement and Gilgamesh was ill-prepared for it. Thankfully for the Sumerian royal, he had enough experience to able to react to even the most unexpected and daunting of surprises.

Another series of golden gates appeared above the King, tightly packed and almost overlapping one another. Not a moment was wasted as a wall of arms was fired simultaneously. Again. And again.

Shirou was able to parry and dodge the first wall, slowing himself slightly. The second was almost the same, except that a large golden push dagger -_Vajra, his mind supplied_- smashed into his blade, causing an explosion that threw him backward, arms wide.

Defenceless.

The last wave seemed to hit him in the torso, skewering him, and sending him flying further into the cavern's wall with a thunderous crash, easily heard over the continuous crashing of weapons on stone as the King of Uruk kept up the barrage on Rider.

The King smirked in satisfaction at having rid himself of one of his annoyances, before focusing on the now grim-faced Rider.

Rider swore mentally, as she barely dodged another volley of missiles. Without a second target to focus on, the projectiles came at her faster, in bigger numbers and more precisely placed. In order to not be impaled to death, she was forced to go where her opponent wanted, a small alcove with only one entrance and a solid wall behind it. She knew it was a trap, but the bastard was careful not to let her be able to charge through the cloud of steel, willing to take minor damage in return for room for manoeuvre. Her powerful eyes picked out weapons that could kill her in a single strike blocking her from doing so.

Eventually, despite all her desperate attempts, she was positioned right where he wanted her, her back to the wall and panting lightly in exertion. He smirked at her arrogantly for a moment, between the waves of weaponry, before the weapons shot forth, faster again, not leaving her time to move. It was arranged as a ring of deadly metal, various implements of death surrounding another in a circle as they flew, ensuring that even if she tried to dodge, she would still be struck, weakening her further and making her easy prey. But that was irrelevant to her.

It was the centre focused weapon that held her fear and terror.

It was a simple weapon, a bronze curved scythe attached to a polished length of ash, looking somewhat like a walking stick with a sharp blade for a handle. It was a simple weapon. It was one she had seen before.

It was the one that had killed her.

_Harpe_.

As a Heroic Spirit, her form was more of a concept, a representation, of Medusa, the Queen of Gorgons. As a representation, she is thus bound to her legend, her fate. As she was originally killed by Harpe, as a Servant, she was very very weak to the blade. A mere scratch by it could almost kill her, not taking into account properties of the Noble Phantasm and her low Endurance statistic.

She shook slightly as she readied her weapon to futilely defend. She may have fear, but she would be damned in she fell to it before the blade.

It was close now, mere feet. She readied to move and defend.

Then the unexpected happened.

To her disbelief, the weapons suddenly flew askew, as someone had knocked them off-course, sending them careening wildly, into the ground, the ceiling, the cavern wall, everywhere. She didn't hesitate to leap out of the death trap, even as the King's eyes widened in rage and surprise. She didn't know exactly what happened, but she bet that her ally, to her everlasting relief, wasn't quite dead yet.

Gilgamesh snarled in fury as his sharp eyes noticed the damaged state of his treasures from what should have been the killing stroke to the serpent. Not only had someone prevented his execution of a monster, as was his right as the King, but they had damaged his treasures. His eyes practically glowed crimson in fury as he shot another volley toward where he had thought the mongrel had died with a roar of insane rage.

His furious eyes took in the six winged form as it charged headlong into the steel, a sword in each hand. One was a brilliant gold and blue, etched with letters of the Fae upon the blade, a blade he knew well. The other was night to the other's day, red and black was it's colouring, as though it was stained in the blood of thousands, tens of thousands, enemy and ally, friend and foe, innocent and guilty. A sword he had also seen once, borne by the pathetic mud puppet of the woman.

Excalibur and Excalibur Morgan. The light and dark. Each a twisted mirror of the other.

The mongrel that dared to Fake them had a face of grim resolve, a cold fire that burnt behind his eyes, focusing directly on the King's own. He was dusty, cloaked in the stone dust of the broken cavern wall, but otherwise unharmed, something that outraged the King of Uruk. His treasury had been unable to damage the mongrel?! At all?!

Shirou ploughed through the river of steel once more, this time not bothering to dodge. As a weapon came close to him, his bracers pulsed with a silver light, a continuous overlapping repetition of **'Shift**' echoing in his mind.

As he ran, heedless of the weapons before, like a swarm of steel wasps waiting to sting him to death, he began to incant his aria, filling blades he bore with power.

**"I am the bone of my sword."**

The ominous words were heard even over the sound of breaking steel, crushed stone and whistling air.

"**With a soul of Steel, And wings of Shadow,"**

Shirou was a blur as he ran forwards, his blood, his power, pumping hard, burning high. Rider was less occupied now, the temperamental King focusing his efforts on the winged individual. She watched in slight awe as the man stormed the Tyrant.

The two swords, of dark and light, flared with the power Shirou practically prana shoved into them by the bucket loads, his circuits burning from the necessary power to initiate two Excaliburs. They extended behind him, like an additional pair of wings, a mix of golden light and deepest shadow.

"**Enshrouding my Heart with countless blades,"**

He was too close for projectiles to be a feasible option now. His defence was too strong for mere fired weapons. Gilgamesh snarled angrily. This winged oaf dared to stand against a King! Then let him meet his demise.

"Mongrel!" he howled, tearing a weapon from his treasury. His greatest weapon. His most loved treasure, second only to Enkidu. "Disappear from my sight!"

Shirou's eyes widened in complete surprise and trepidation as they beheld 'the sword that was not a sword'. That impossible existence that he could not understand. The sword that cuts apart heaven and earth. An Anti-World Noble Phantasm.

Ea.

Shirou's eyes feverishly judged the distance between them, calculating if he was fast enough to strike down the despot before he could unleash the true power of the weapon. He had thought the King would not be willing to use the weapon, out of pride and desire to not harm the ritual taking place. It looks like he guessed wrong.

A quick glance showed that it would be close. While he was inside the tyrant's range of fire, giving him a clear run and a chance to move at his full speed, he was also pumping prana into the mirrored Excaliburs he had traced, readying to strike down his enemy, which diverted a lot of his power from his Reinforcement, leaving him only to rely on his natural prowess.

He hoped it was enough.

"**You better not be thinking on taking that damned over-powered excuse for a sword head on, Partner,**" a voice growled deep in his mind, filled with a certain anxiety and wariness, "**I have faced many beings in my life. Gods, demons, monster and men. All of them having power beyond belief or weapons as old as time and powerful as hell.**

**"And I have emerged victorious. Each. And. Every. Time.**

**"But that sword... It is a game breaker. A certain kill when it is drawn from it's sheath. It makes a top-tier Longinus look like a toy. I cannot defeat it. ****_Gods_**** cannot defeat it**."

"It's just as well I'm not a God then, huh?" Shirou slightly smirked at the voice, his own a mere whisper as he continued to charge, a close eye kept on the roaring figure of Gilgamesh wielding Ea. Shirou felt the fetid air of the underground cavern begin to change, charged with power and drawing toward the slowly rotating pieces of the of Ea.

A soft chuff echoed in his mind, "**Reckless fool." **the old feline growled in resignation**, "Do as you wish, boy. I'll aid as well as I can."**

'_Have you recovered from the Overlap?_' Shirou questioned, referring the to the near simultaneous chaining of using the Gear when he started his charge.

"**Enough**," the beast grunted, "**You do your part, boy, and I will do mine.**"

'_Good_.' Shirou affirmed. He noticed the distance was closer now. It was now or never, do or die. The conversation with his partner taking place at the speed of thought.

Showtime.

His black wings, dark as the abyss and seemingly crafted of black steel, flared wide and flapped furiously, giving him that little extra speed. If this move succeeded, he would be close to running dry and probably more than a little injured, especially in the shoulders. If it failed... Still, needs must when the devil drives.

"Ex-!" he roared, the swords he held becoming twin suns, black and gold, as he prepared to use them as nature intended. To smite their foes.

"Enuma-!" roared back the Golden King, his face almost animalistic in his rage at the... _Vulture_... before him. It is not enough that he is able to steals his treasure with but a glimpse of his eyes, but now he had destroyed several of them by _daring_ to face the King! Even worse, he chose to use _mockeries_ of the sword wielded by that wretched woman. And worse still, forcing him to despoil the splendour of Ea by using it against the metal feathered trash!

He will bring about a reckoning, here and now!

His weapon filled hand reared back, the sword howling as it drank of the air, such as it was, to fuel its power. The King's power spurred it on with his own supply of prana, the howling reaching new heights.

"Cali-!" Shirou continued to scream, pumping ungodly amounts of his power into the swords. He needed the weapons ready for the right moment, to strike in that single opportune moment. Shirou prayed mentally that his on the spot plan would work.

"Elish!" declared Gilgamesh as he began to release the wrath of his almighty will upon the foolish pigeon that _dared_ to challenge him. A swirling mass of crimson power began to erupt from the most powerful weapon to ever exist as it was thrust forward.

'_Now!_' Shirou mentally yelled. In response, his bracers blazed with a silvery fire. His thoughts quickly envisioned what he wanted done.

"**Shift!**" it called, practically unheard over the howling of Ea.

But it was definitely felt.

Gilgamesh suddenly felt like a mountain had crashed down on his arm. Unprepared for this sudden assault, his hand, filled with a screaming Ea, was yanked down, parallel to his own upright body.

With a wailing Ea pointed downwards, touching the cavern floor right between his feet. And releasing it's stored energy.

Gilgamesh had only time for his eyes to widen in disbelief before he was tossed violently into the air with a roaring blast of power, losing hold of his treasure as he did so. The power was quickly cut off as the weapon was separated from the hand of it's master, but even in that brief moment of released power, the damage to cavern was extraordinary. The earth itself shook like a maracca, the residents in the cave were like the filler within the gourd-bell as they were thrown off of their feet. The walls and floor tore like paper, shredding themselves under the pressure of the released energy, with a grinding wail.

But such things were inconsequential to Shirou.

His wings beat faster, lifting him like a rocket toward the airborne, and wildly spinning, King of Uruk. It was his chance now. The King was without his weapons, unable to react or defend against any attack. The only thing stopping the King's death would be his armour, something Shirou had seen to be more formidable than it looked. However, strong as it may be, he doubted it could withstand the force of two Excaliburs.

"Bur!" he screamed, slashing the two suns he held in a move designed to completely bisect the Tyrant.

Gilgamesh didn't even see the blow that killed him, denying him a final chance at spitting upon the fool and mongrel that did so.

The two Excaliburs sliced through the King of Heroes like a knife through hot butter. The two pieces of the fallen King, slowly, to Shirou's adrenaline charged senses, began to drift apart, still spinning. A moment seemed to pass, before the two halves erupted into flame, one gold and one black, as the power of the Excaliburs burned away the remains of the Sumerian King.

The two Excaliburs shattered into motes of prana as Shirou released his hold on their existence, his golden eyes firmly upon the dissipating remains of his enemy, ensuring that he truly had returned to his abode in the Throne of Heroes as he floated just below the ceiling of the cavern. He sighed slightly in relief before grunting in pain as his arms spasmed painfully, the muscles twisting and writhing beneath the skin, making the tight sleeves of his shirt seem to squirm.

His teeth clenched, hard, as white hot agony shot up and down them as he floated back to the cavern floor, where Rider was waiting calmly, her blindfold back in place. This was the price he paid for the stunt he pulled with the two swords. Excalibur's most powerful attack was designed to used with two hands, the raw power of the strike needing the stability and strength only two hands could provide. Shirou had, perhaps stupidly, not only done it with one hand, but had done it twice, simultaneously, with either hand. He was honestly surprised his arms hadn't been ripped off by the raw power. This was also without mentioning the prana exhaustion, that came from invoking two highly prana-intensive Noble Phantasms, that weighed down his body and made it feel like he was dipped in boiling oil. He was more thankful than ever about the size of his prana reserves, if he had any less, he wouldn't have been able to pull off that insane stunt, Amazingly enough, his still had a little bit of prana left in the tank, may be less than five percent of his total. It wasn't much, but it would be enough, it had to be.

But he didn't have time to dwell on such trivialities. He needed to keep going, to keep advancing. He needed to rescue Sakura. The woman who held his heart in the palm of her hands.

He would not fail.

His feet gently touched the stone floor, jostling his arms, causing him to hiss in pain. Though it seemed a little less than it was. Avalon's work, obviously.  
Rider gave a wordless nod of thanks to the now unwinged being for saving her life. A brief shrug of acknowledgement, mixed with a grimace of pain, was given before he was shooting off down into the depths of the cave at a full sprint, with Rider close behind.

Wind whistled in his ears as Shirou ran at eye-blurring speeds for a regular mortal human, unhindered by the surrounding darkness. His body, injured as it was, felt the strain as he did so, but it was nothing that Shirou couldn't tolerate. Especially if it meant Sakura's safety.

The tunnel abruptly terminated, opening up into a vast expanse.

Shirou couldn't help but widen his eyes in surprise, shock and awe. This cavern, wasn't a cavern at all. It was a different land, hidden away from prying eyes, free to exist as it chooses, unspoiled. At least by man.

The ceiling traveled up and up, almost without limit. The walls also seemed to extend out forever, but really was an almost impossible two or three miles. From where Rider and Shirou had entered the vast vault crafted of stone, they could the see what was obviously their final destination. An immense towering spire of black stone, etched with vast curving blue sigils, each glowing dimly, leading up to the tri-clawed tip of it. And there, floating directly above, like some black sun, was the Holy Grail.

Shirou's senses were assaulted with the putrid psychic scent of it. More foul than anything he had ever encountered. Like rotting flesh, broiled in the tears of despair, atop the flames of hatred and served with the wine of madness. He physically staggered back from it, making Rider catch him slightly, before he managed to get a hold of himself.

'_By the swirl of the endless Root and the Five True Magics,_' he thought in disbelief and absolute disgust, '_how can such a thing even __**exist!**_**?**'

'**Your guess is good as mine, Partner,**' his old friend responded to his thoughts, the old tiger's mental voice showing his own disgusted astonishment, '**but you had better destroy the damn thing. That abomination of life,**' the voice was now an angry snarl of rage, '**it should never have existed in the first place.'**

'_Understood_,' Shirou responded grimly, '_and I completely agree.'_

Shirou glanced up from his own mental conversation to look at the Rider, whose face also twisted into extreme distaste and disgust. As a spirit, she would be more sensitive to the putrid power of the Grail. It was obvious that she did not like it, not at all.

"Let's go," he murmured softly, shrugging off her helping hand, the movement barely hurting now. Avalon was definitely working overtime, maybe sensing his urgency. "Keep an eye out for everything. If something moves, crush it without hesitation. The only things that should, or can, be down here are us, Zouken and Sakura. Anything else is a probably one of Zouken's shadowy puppets or his worms."

"I understand," Rider responded, her voice still so musical despite the current dilemma they both faced.

The two started off again, not rushing but not dawdling either, a pace that allowed them to relatively swiftly in almost complete silence and able to stay aware of everything that happened around them both, making directly for the large platform, a seeming immense Formalcraft magical circle that sat below the accursed black sun, at the top of the spire, like an altar to an evil god. If any ritual were to take place, it would be there.

Shirou kept his eyes peeled, not daring to use Structural Analysis this close to the Grail. Knowing his horrid luck, he would try to analyse the area and get the Grail itself. He had no desire to have several millennia worth of human tragedy and spite to be shoved into his brainpan, thank you very much. His eyes slid over the path before them, unworn by the tread of man, backed by the monolithic wall at the far end of this desolate land. The waves of magic from the Great Grail, even in their putridity, gave off a light that allowed him to see a little more clearly than in the tunnel. He grimaced slightly as black fire belched from the false sun, feeling the heat of it's malevolence.

This whole place disgusted him. And if he was disgusted by it...

What could Sakura be going through, at the centre of this whole travesty to existence, to life, being so close to something that hates all things, even itself?

This thought, as terrifying and repugnant as it was, spurred him on, Rider matching his steps. They were soon at the base of the immense column, with no stairs in sight to allow Rider and himself to climb it. Wordlessly, he released his wings, black steel reflecting the black light of abomination, and extended his arms in a wordless gesture. Rider looked at him a moment, her blindfold not letting her eyes be read, but obviously searching for something. A heartbeat passed, and Rider stepped into his arms, letting him wrap them around her as he launched them aloft with a powerful thrust of his six wings, her own arm gripping around his neck tightly and her legs wrapped around his solid waist. His piercing gold eyes focused on his destination, unsure of what he would find there.

So focused was the swordsman on his flight, that he missed the slight reddening, barely noticeable, of the Servant's cheeks as she held on warm man's firm, solid and chiseled body before refocusing her thoughts into a battle mode.

His black steel wings struck the heavily charged air, bringing them swiftly to the top of the spire. He soared past the platform at speed, his eyes only seeing a glimpse of two separate figures, one slim and stooped, the other hunched over, much smaller than the former, likely on their knees.

Zouken and Sakura. Just as expected.

A swift bank of his wings had Shirou aimed at the platform again and, after a half a moment, alighting on the warm stone, his piercing golden eyes locked on to the stooped but standing figure of Zouken, releasing Rider as he did so.

Zouken had changed little, still wearing a drab green kimono with a similar hakama and a black coat, bent over on a gnarled but well polished wooden cane. His beady white eyes stared out at the half-human weapons-master from a sallow and withered face and black sclera, something generally covered up by minor magecraft. The only real difference was the wickedly curved dagger he bore in his other hand. A Mystic Code, if his eyes were not mistaken, a unique one with no real name. It had the generic use of amplification, something used by many magi to enhance Formalcraft, but there was a spell already active on it, a binding. No, more like enhancing or strengthening an already existing binding. But there was something about it that had the winged man raging.

It was coated in blood. No, it was more like the blood had been absorbed into the blade, staining it crimson.

With. Sakura's. Blood.

A thunderous growl of anger rumbled from his throat as he turned his attention to Sakura, trusting an enraged, but calm, Rider to keep an eye on Zouken.

Sakura was knelt in the very centre of the large magical circle, her head hung low. Her now white coloured hair hung over her face, concealing it from his view. Her clothing had changed aswell, different from what she had worn before her kidnapping, an ankle length sundress with crimson and black pinstripes. Honestly, it would have been easy to mistake her for someone else entirely if he did not know Sakura as well as he did.

The biggest change, though, came in the form of her power.

Where before, she had a powerful psychic scent of seawater, an acknowledgement of the form of magecraft forced on her by the worm beside her, she now had a scent that was scarily similar to the Grail that even now stood above them all like the sword of Damocles.

And the sheer power of it was beyond belief.

It all lead to one conclusion.

"What have you done to her, Zouken?" the whisper was harsh, cold and raging, like a blizzard bearing down of some poor soul.

A watery chuckle filled the stooped monster's throat, "Merely what I needed to do, boy."

Shirou scowled heavily. He was faster than the old monster, and a boat load stronger, but this wicked piece of worm offal had the experience, intelligence, ruthlessness and time to prepare. Shirou was more than willing to step up to the plate to save Sakura, but he needed to do it carefully, otherwise his efforts would be pointless. He needed more information. He thanked his lucky stars, few as they are, that Rider, despite her hidden rage, was willing to follow his lead and maintain a clear head. Even she knew attacking a prepared mage in his sanctum was a bad idea.

Time to test the waters then.

"And what might that be?" he growled, not needing to fake the anger and leashed wrath behind it, his hands itching for his sword, "How to be worm shit?"

An amused shake of the bald head, like an elder not understanding a young boy's foolish actions, was his reply, "Youth today," the old monster muttered, "so uncouth, impatient and undereducated," a mocking sigh, "but I suppose I have time to school you. She isn't quite ready yet, after all."

Shirou narrowed his eyes, unmoving, even as Rider tensed slightly, ready to move at her usual blistering pace at a moments notice.

'_So his plan involves Sakura meeting a set of conditions. A time limit or 'gestation' period perhaps?_'

His concerned eyes wandered over Sakura again, eying her more closely. She looked the same as before, until he noticed the side of her neck. A pulsing red mark, like veins, seemed to have peaked over the top of her collar, something he was sure wasn't there before. A spell mark or something of the sort? He wasn't sure, but he would bet his wings that they had something to do with this whole catastrophe.

"You should know a little of how the Holy Grail works," Zouken began, a demented gleam appearing in his eyes, "the Lesser Grail contains all the Servants who have perished until the last one dies, which then forcefully triggers a channel from the Lesser to the Greater which hangs above us now, filling it with the energy of the Servants and further triggering a response from the Greater, which amplifies the energy and sends the Servants back to the Throne, dragging the connection to the Greater Grail along the way, thus connecting it to the Root and allowing for the fulfilment of wishes based upon the user's own perception.

"The crux of the problem there is 'the user's own perception'. If one wants all the wealth in the world, but could only seeing it happen through theft, the Grail would boost the user's thieving prowess to unheard limits. Conversely, If someone does not know how to fulfil his wish, in some manner, then the Grail is nought more than a powerful glowing paperweight."

Shirou's eyebrows raised briefly, his eyes still on the slowly crawling mark on his beloved's neck. To hear that the vaunted Holy Grail, something that had been fought over for over two centuries, being reduced to useless because of a man's ignorance was quite a surprise.

Zouken continued his rambling, "In this sense, it is not a 'creator of miracles', but more of a 'manipulation of the present in order to achieve the desired future'. What I want, more than than all the gold in the world, than all the knowledge in the Root, is True Immortality, something that is impossible to achieve." the monster's face twisted in anger.

Despite himself, Shirou understood. As there were many definitions of Immortality (being remembered when you were long dead, endless longevity, inability to die etc etc) it was an almost impossible wish to grant. Immortality in one way would then have a way around it. If one cannot die, then one just imprisons them. True Immortality, however, is _beyond human understanding_. And, as such, due to the Grails limitations, cannot be granted.

It must have been maddening to the old worm, to have what is as close to ultimate power as you can get at your fingertips, only for it to be nothing more than a glowing ball.

It must have drove him round the bend.

"So I just decided to come at it another way," here the old man, if he could really be called that, smirked dementedly, sending shivers of dread down the spines of Rider and Shirou, "with the aid of my dearest granddaughter," here he stroked his withered and filthy hand over the white hair of Sakura, caressing her with the blood stained dagger, angering the duo that faced him, "I plan to become the sole existence. After all, if everyone but I, lies dead, then truly I am Immortal. Angra Mainyu will see to that.

"And I will see to you."

Those lasts words, along with the implications of his previous statements, had the Servant and former Master moving, their senses registering danger a bare fraction of a second before a colossal arm, made of shadows, hammered into where they had been. A bright flash of prana from where the massive fist had struck, prevented damage to the magic circle that kept the Greater Grail stable.

"Shit," Shirou swore, seeing the arm, or tentacle, of the Shadow, though greatly increased in size, "Rider!" he roared, hurling himself into the air, using his wings to dodge the flurry of tentacles that chased him, weaving and dodging like an old dogfight, "Get Sakura out of the circle and crush Zouken! You can't fight this thing!" he dodged another looping strike that attempted to entangle him as he rose ever higher, the monster's sole focus on him, "Do it now!"

The Gorgon said nothing, swiftly moving at impossible speeds towards Sakura and her captor. The maddened worm didn't even bother to defend or dodge the crushing blow of her deceptively delicate fist, destroying his head and upper body in a blow, the dagger flying away from his grasp before it was struck quickly by a shaft of light from a watching Shirou, even as he continuously evaded the Shadow's grasp.

Rider was at her master's side within the next moment. She carefully looked at the seeming comatose girl, acknowledging her differences but still seeing the small remnant of her original self. Satisfied, she slung the girl onto her back and blurred towards the edge of this monument to darkness. A single step and she was sprinting downward, her feet kept her attached to the pillar of death like it was merely a garden path. A heartbeat passed, the stifling air whistling in her ears, before she arrived at the base of the monolithic black stone and carefully placed the girl she had come to care for, like a mirror of herself, on the warm stone. She didn't know what would happen now, but it was not within her power to control it.

It was Shirou, the one who loved Sakura, who would be needed to decide the path.

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Shirou was not having the best of times with the Shadow, something that was capable of kill Servants like they were helpless puppies and able to drain prana from others at rates that were beyond ridiculous. He knew if he was caught by the strands of dark prana that whipped about him, making him perform aerobatics that were killing his muscles, he would be dead within seconds, or even less, considering the state of his od reserves. He would need to make it quick.

Thankfully, when Rider had destroyed Zouken's form, he was able to spot the flying dagger, something he was sure had to do with the reappearance of this damn thing, especially considering the way it attacked was more thoughtful, like a puppet being moved by it's master. A short gathering of his other, something that mingled with his prana but was slightly different, and focused on his inborn ability, the gift of his heritage according to the old tiger, and a spear of bright blue light flew swiftly and had shattered it to pieces.

The behaviour of the Shadow changed almost instantly, from calculating precision to a wild beast unleashed. It thrashed everywhere, but kept focused on him, attempting to swarm him under an endless wave of the darkly serpentine tendrils that acted as it's limbs. Even as he evaded, going even higher towards the ceiling above, he also noticed the a portion of slowly creeping tendrils from the base of the Shadow, slowly make their way toward the reclined Sakura and slightly apprehensive Rider.

No.

He couldn't allow that- wouldn't allow that- to happen.

He quickly analysed the weakness of the Shadow. Prana attacks were out, it would just absorb them. Touching it was suicide, it would just devour him. His Noble Phantasms might work, but it would need to be powerful and his reserves were low, and he still needed to destroy the Grail. His Gear wouldn't work well against it either, not directly, despite it working very well against spiritual existences. No, he needed a medium of sufficient power to crush, kill and destroy it.

And he had just the right thing.

While he kept flying away, circling and diving, from the hungry grasp of the Shadow, he mentally reached out toward something he had first stumbled upon whilst meditating under the instruction of old-man Kiritsugu. a warm golden light, pulsing in a military cadence, the sounds of war drums in his ears. He **_pulled_**.

The shamshir appeared in his hands for the second time that day, still as plain as ever, and still glowing that blue-white it generally did.

This time, Shirou wasn't going to pack power into it, he had little left to spare. Instead, he was going to use the swords own internal power to bolster his own. Something he rarely did due to his own plentiful reserves.

Not to mention it was difficult to control without causing a lot of collateral damage. The old man never let him forget about that mountain ridge he had destroyed when he was just aiming at the boulder that had been just in front of him.

He needed no words, incantations or oaths. He merely raised the sword high, like a beacon of hope within this desolate land, let his injured body ride the wave of power he coaxed from it and slashed down. The sword, seemingly eager to fight, surged with power, a blue-white wave of power splitting the Shadow in twain, from top to bottom.

It seemed to shudder as the wave passed through it, before freezing in place. It was still as stone, until the now two halves of the fearful beast slowly separated from each, like two trees felled by a lumberjack. As the colossal construct fell, it began to dissipate, becoming motes of darkness that then slowly disappeared before it hit the stone floor.

Shirou took a deep breath, trying to relax from the exertion. His still healing arms twinged heavily in pain once more, the attack causing just more strain. But he had succeeded, the Shadow was slain. Hopefully it wouldn't come back, especially as Zouken seemed to be unable to manipulate Sakura into crafting another at the moment.

Now he just needed to make sure the old worm was dead as well. Permanently if he can manage it.

A swift series of wingbeats propelled him towards the waiting Rider, her face still as stoic as ever.

"How is she?" he inquired briskly as he landed, his feet carrying him swiftly to the side of the one who held his heart.

"She seems to be unconscious," Rider spoke bluntly, knowing now was not the time to mince words, "But I am concerned about the state she is in. She is so different from what she was before she was taken."

"Zouken's doing no doubt," Shirou scowled as he examined Sakura, the mark he had noticed before had grown since his last glimpse, covering almost the complete left-hand side of her neck, like a crimson web of power. It also gave off a feeling that turned the swordman's stomach.

Still he could focus on that after he had rid her of the last remnants of Zouken.

"Speaking of the old worm," he spoke, his voice a light growl, "I need to get rid of him. Permanently this time."

Rider stiffened slightly as she glared at him through her blindfold, "And how will you do that without killing Sakura? You said yourself that a part of the parasite is inside of Sakura's heart. How do you plan to get it?"

Shirou lifted his shamshir to show her, "This particular blade has many abilities. One in particular is the ability to excorsize and seal spirits. Zouken is pretty much a specter or wraith. A spirit. With this blade, it is feasible I can remove the last of Zouken from her."

Rider was quiet for a moment, contemplating the pros and cons of letting him do so. In the end, there was only one real answer.

"Do it," the Servant of the Mount commanded, relaxing her guard.

Shirou nodded quietly and knelt beside Sakura. He brushed her hair for a moment, a gentle smile on his face, before he quietly placed the hilt of the sword over her heart, the emerald gems touching her chest. He then slipped his ring finger on his right hand through the hollow ring of the pommel.

"Invoke," he intoned, the four emeralds all lighting up, "Excorcism," all but one dimmed, "Activate."

Shirou shuddered briefly, still not use to what the sword had done. The emerald glowed brightly, emitting a field of green energy that covered the whole of Shirou's right arm, all the way to the shoulder. It swiftly moulded itself to his arm, like a second skin.

Then the arm turned transparent. Shirou could see the rock floor, tinged with green light, through his arm. But he remained calm.

Then what Shirou was most uncomfortable with began to happen. His vision started to blur, shapes were less defined, less real. But colours became both brighter and darker, incandescent and abyssal, the contrast so great, his eyes had to adjust from going to a dark hued area to a light one and vice versa.

But that was not the only effect.

Shirou concentrated on Sakura's body, a crimson flame mixed with black rather startling for her aura, searching for that little spot of trouble that represented the power of Zouken. Since his sword was able to excorsize spirits, it stood to reason that it would allow the user to identify, to 'see', spirits at work. It also had the side effect of making the user see _everything_ in it's spiritual form, quite a disadvantage in battle due to the mingling auras that confound and confuse even the best of exorcists, even driving some of them mad after a time.

After the spirit is seen, then the second part comes into play. The arm that had become transparent specialised in counter-possession exorcism, letting the arm become a spiritual existence able to interact _only_ with spirits or heavily spiritual influenced objects. To touch them, harm them, kill them, without causing damage to the host. But such interaction was limited to only that arm as reverting his entire body, or even just his vital organs, like his heart or brain, to a spiritual form would immediately kill him.

But this meant nothing to Shirou, his focus solely on Sakura. Search, seeking and, finally, finding the core of her problems. His spiritual sight locked his eyes directly on a steady blotch of putrid yellow white, like curdled milk, within the otherwise chaotic red and crimson inferno.

He didn't hesitate.

His emerald glowing spectral lashed out like a shining spear of green light, piercing Sakura's chest like a sword dipped into water. He seemed to move his hand for a moment, groping for something only he could see, before his arm tensed, clenching hard. A choked gasp came from Sakura, her eyes springing open, baring two blood red orbs for their view. Shirou noticed that the gasp did not seem to sound like it should have come from a female's throat, and acted swiftly.

A quick wrench and his arm, a vivid green and pulsing like a strobe light, re-emerged from her chest, a pale white worm like thing in it's grasp. Putrid and squirming helplessly, like a maggot.

It's words were heard by all there, including a disbelieving Sakura, a stoic and disgusted Rider and a grim and implacable Shirou Emiya.

"How dare you?!" it squealed wetly, trying to escape the tight grasp of the Faker, "Do you have any ide-!"

SQUELCH!

Shirou glared at the crushed remains of what was once Matou Zouken in his spectral hand. He didn't have the patience or desire to listen the foul screams of an equally foul being.

Especially one that had hurt _her_ so.

Speaking of...

"Sen...pai?" whispered the changed form of Sakura.

"Sakura," he answered with a slight nod and a smile, slipping the ring from his hand and letting his arm return to normal before rising to his feet.

He was beyond relieved that the whole gamble he did had payed off. He mentally gave his thanks to both the blade and the old tiger that had suggested the idea. A low rumbling purr of satisfaction was his only answer.

"Master," greeted Rider, her usually stoic voice showing a bit of the relief she held for the young woman.

"Rider?" Sakura responded in surprise.

"Save the greetings for later," Shirou spoke, his voice serious as he gazed at her, his eyes narrowed as he tracked the spreading spider web of veins, a sensation of familiarity niggling at the back of his mind, something about them seeming so familiar yet different, "this whole debacle isn't over yet," he looked seriously into Sakura's wide crimson eyes, so different yet similar to her previous deep blue, not wanting to disturb her, but needing to in order to ensure her safety, "I hate to ask this Sakura, but do you now what was done to you? What caused the changes?"

Sakura stiffened, fear, disgust, anger, rage and so many other emotions flashing across her face that it was impossible to make them all out. A ball of lead sank heavily into the Faker's gut. She knew what had happened, and it wasn't anything good.

"Gr-grandfather," she spoke haltingly, the twisted morass of veins on her neck bulging as she spoke, "h-he tried to b-bind me to the Greater G-grail. S-Something about the Lesser Grail not being enough."

Shirou's eyes narrowed in quiet rage. Trying to bind a young woman to a corrupted piece of magical power was just par for the course for the old monster. It was just as well he was dead now, and beyond any grasp of vengeance. Otherwise, Shirou would have made his last moments of his miserable life very uncomfortable.

It also concerned him about the mention of the Lesser Grail, also known as Ilyasveil von Einzbern. She had been killed, and her heart, stolen. Shirou thought it may have been a failed gamble to awaken the Greater Grail. Zouken had tried to cheat the system, only to find it failed to work, making the little homunculus' death pointless. Even if he had to face a blackened Heracles in the end.

So, what could Zouken think that Sakura could achieve, that the little Einzbern representative could not?

Shirou eyed her, concerned, as Sakura went on, her words ragged and halting, her limbs twitching violently, as if in pain, even as the mark glowed a dull red, alarming the other two.

"I-it hurt. It still hurts." the mark on her neck burned a brilliant red light, making Rider and Shirou stagger back, an overwhelming feel of power erupting from the young woman, vile and putrid, "My blood burns, my bones feel like razor shards buried in my flesh," a veritable wave of pure prana washed over the other two, throwing them backward from the now unstable magus. The Greater Grail, burning a black fire, like a sun of death, began to flare, gouts of raw power reaching for the ceiling high above as something within it struggled to emerge.

To be born.

Sakura rose unsteadily to her feet, madness and sorrow and rage and anger all mixing in her face as the mark, like a virulent disease, slowly spread further up, touching her ear. She reared her head back, clutching her hair and **_screamed_**.

Rider and Shirou held their ears in pain as the sound, a wail of pure agony, washed over them like a wave at the beach, engulfing them, letting them feel just the smallest portion of the girl's madness and despair and pain.

As if in reaction, the Greater Grail erupted with power, as if it fed on the girl's despair and anguish, a black key that unlocks the horrors hidden away.

Shirou almost fell, insensate, as the true power of the Grail washed over him, the cavern shaking fiercely, massive cracks appearing in the walls, seen even from where he stood, near the centre. Stones and rubble fell like deadly missiles from the ceiling high above, barely missing those that stood below.

"Fuck," Shirou said roughly, his voice strained by near physical exhaustion, prana depletion, painful injuries and Heaven knows what else, "This is insane."

Rider swung her hand to the side, swatting away a large piece of earthwork that would have otherwise caused injury, "Do you know what is happening?" A slash of her nail split another large rock in twain, falling harmlessly beside her.

Shirou peered at the distraught girl, idly noting that the stones never seemed to come near her, under the black light of the, obviously, out of control and unstable Grail. He looked her over again and suddenly, his eyes locked on that spidery mark.

_Mark. Mark. Binding. Ritual. Command. Contract._

A swift series of words buzzed across his mind and he began cursing out that fucking sandworm of a corpse, Zouken, as clarity pierced him.

He didn't bother explaining to Rider, simply sprinted across the heaving and uneven stone towards Sakura, the Servant following close behind in any case.

The distance seemed impossibly long, her power having thrown them a good distance, as he raced against time. To save her. To save them all.

He could already feel the sand falling through the hourglass, a few grains away from running out, as he sensed/smelt/felt the instability of the Greater Grail. If he had dared to look up, he would have seen the previously pristine and perfect sphere of power begin to swell unevemly, massive bulges, black as tar, looking like great tumours, poisonous and foul, appearing on it as the surges of power skyrocketed, scorching, devouring, the walls with it's vile black flame.

Angra Mainyu, dwelling within this device, was seeking his freedom, his birth.

And he was using Sakura to do it. Thanks to the old fool Zouken contracting her to the Grail itself

Feeding off of her negative thoughts, feelings and desires, and converting them into prana, enough to even force his awakening without the death of all the Servants. As a bonus, he had even created a feedback loop. The more she felt despair, the more power he obtained and the further he could drive into despair, thus creating even more power for him.

An endless cycle of pain and agony. Exactly what he would bring to the world when he emerged.

It was only a matter of time.  
Shirou raced, faster and faster, towards his Heart. It was only a matter moments before everything went to Hell. It was already too late to escape, even for Rider. The sheer amount of wildly fluctuating power now in the air due to the instability of the Grail, which looked like it was about to explode, would interfere with her spirit form, probably tearing her soul apart if she even tried.

It was now do or die, even more so than before. A second late, a fragment of a second too late, and they would be erased from existence, drowning under the weight of All the Evils in the World.

Looks like Gilgamesh may get his wish after all. Fucking Golden Bastard.

Boulders and stones and other things fell in front of him, or on top of him, delaying him as he dodged them all. What thoughts he could spare were also focused on his magecraft, readying a weapon that would, if not stop, then at least mitigate the oncoming disaster.

"Trace...on!" he barked, slightly breathless as he sprinted while channeling his prana _just so._

A flash of blue light appeared over his hand briefly, before vanishing, revealing artifact he now bore.

It was a strange athame, a ritual dagger frequently used by practitioners of the arcane. Its blade was short, maybe ten inches, but was somewhat shorter due to the crooked form of it. The blade was also iridescent, a rainbow of a thousand colours. It seemed to have no use as a melee weapon, likely to break on the first strike.

But there was an air about it, foreboding and ominous, like a viper with hidden fangs.

It was Rule Breaker. The Noble Phantasm of Medea of Colchis, the Witch of Betrayal, who was summoned as Caster in the Holy Grail War.

It's nature was an anti-thaumaturgy weapon, able to destroy almost all magecraft by 'returning it to its previous state'. It was able to even destroy contacts of the like between Servant and Master.

Between Sakura and the Grail.

Rider seemed to understand his plan, her footsteps not faltering as she ran alongside, bashing, cutting and striking debris away from her.

But she was not the only one that noticed. Angra Mainyu also noticed.

Shirou was suddenly dodging raw blasts of power from the Grail in the form of black flames, deadly and devouring. But Shirou was close to, within feet of, a still wailing, screaming and thrashing Sakura.

Shirou stretched out, the blade of betrayal extended, seeking the flesh of his target. His arm was within inches, the blade of Rule Breaker almost touching the heart of his Heart. A gout of burning darkness passed within millimetres of his arm, burning it but not doing anything more.

Then the blade started to brush the skin of his Heart, parting fabric like water.

It was time.

"Rule Breaker!" he roared over the cataclysm the cavern had become, shoving the last of his available prana into the blade.

The world seemed to turn still and silent, as if frozen in shock, Sakura's cries cutting off abruptly, her carmine eyes wide in shock, even as the rocks still came down, as Rider kept fending them away from the pair, as the world slowly returned to it's normal state.

Shirou ignored everything, except for Sakura's face as it slowly transformed back to normal. Her crimson eyes returning to the deep purple he loved so much, her white hair following suit, along with the ribbon that tied her hair. The pinstripe sundress, revealed to be only a dress made only of ribbons, stayed though, the colours switch to purple and white, matching her normal beauty.

Her wide eyes looked directly into his own intent gold, shock and relief showing through.

He smiled. A smile so full of happiness and relief and wonder and joy. The mirror of the first one he remembered seeing, practically carved onto old-man Kiritsugu's face when he found him alive within that fire a decade ago, at the end of the Fourth Holy Grail War.

It seemed fitting for the Fifth to end with the same expression.

Something didn't agree.

A bone-rattling, fear-inducing, feral, primal, maddening howl destroyed the moment, blasting the three living beings within the cavern into a heap, Rider catching the other two before falling, with a wave of pure malicious power.

The trio looked at the source where they lay.

The Greater Grail, no longer pristine, looked like a massive black tumour, doused in oil and set alight with darkly burning flames, shedding its putrescent light over all and sundry. Massive gouts of flame and power erupted from it in random moments, gradually increasing in severity and shortening in the interval between them.

**_Snap! Crackle!_**

Part of the Grail cracked and shattered, crumbling away from the main sphere and falling down to shatter upon the pillar, letting a massive wave of power to flatten them again.

Angra Mainyu was not happy, and he wanted revenge, even if he had to destroy his conduit to the World in order to do so.

Shirou eyes widened. He could see his death, the death of Rider, the death of his Heart approaching.

And there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing _anyone_ could do about it.

Doing the only thing he could, despite it's pointlessness, he threw himself over the forms of Rider and Sakura, vainly trying to protect them with his body.

A final roar, filled with curses spoken in a tongue long gone, filled the cavern. A last word, filled with hate and spite, split the air.

Then the power _exploded_.

The destructive wave shattered the great pillar before rolling swiftly in their direction.

Shirou wanted nothing more than for all of them to survive. He desired nothing else. He dreamed of only that.

Inside of him, a power that had been with for a decade, keeping him alive, keeping him safe, albeit unwittingly, from the powers of Gaia and Alaya, responded.

A rainbow light washed over the three beings, before vanishing, without a trace, just before the wave of power could have destroyed them.

A week later, the investigation into the collapse of Ryudou Temple was classified as a seismic movement. The government was able to finance the rebuilding of it, much to the monk's gratitude.

The investigation into the disappearance of Shirou Emiya and Sakura Matou was still ongoing, but with the damage to the temple and some of the surrounding town caused by the quake, none were very hopeful of finding them again. Alive anyway.

Rin Tohsaka was called before the Magus Association on charges of endangering the existence of Magecraft. Thankfully, the charges were dropped by a combination of Zelretch's influence, who had made an offer to take Tohsaka as an apprentice, something he had promised her family if they could complete the 'homework' he set, which Rin had managed to achieve with a little of Shirou's help, as well as the circumstances under which even the most pompous and foolish of magi were at least slightly out of her control.

Rin then went on to join the Association and spearheaded the move to shut down the Grail, especially with the damage it had taken during the last war, for good.

She suceeded, and went on to become a highly successful magus.

But she always had doubts, feelings, that her sister and friend had not died that night.

And she was right.

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_Dimensional Gap  
After the Explosion_

Shirou felt the change immediately, the fetid, power charged air of the cavern containing the Grail becoming empty, silent and made of power, making the cavern feel like a water drop next to the ocean.

His eyes snapped open, despite his exhaustion, despite his pain. And stared into wonder.

As far as his eyes could see, was nothing but a collage of colours. A realm of kaleidoscopic existence.

But nothing else.

"**Partner**!" his Gear cried in surprise and urgent apprehension, "**We can't linger here long! The Dimensional Gap is dangerous, deadly, to those who are not protected! We must leave! Now!**"

"And how will we do that?" Shirou retorted in anger, his mind starting to fog up, the power of the Gap slowly beginning to invade his soul, "And what is the Dimensional Gap?"

"**No time! Give me control! Quickly!**" shouted the old tiger quickly, mentally beginning to prowl in agitation.

Heeding the tiger's advice, Shirou intoned "I, who is of Steel and Sword, give of myself to the White Tiger Ruler. Let us ride to battle, to victory."

Shirou swiftly felt his mind detach from his body, merely an observer as it moved, gathering his unconscious companions to him and slashing out, like a cat batting at a toy, the bracers of the body's arms glowing a bright silver.

A distortion appeared in the 'air' in front of his body, revealing a small alleyway, no different than what you would see in a big city.

A swift movement of his steel wings and they were all through, Shirou once more in control of his body and holding his companions around their waists, over his shoulders, like sacks of potatoes.

Little did Shirou Emiya know, he was in a whole new world. With new rules and new ways.

It would be here, that Shirou Emiya will make his mark.

It was the beginning of a Legend. The journey of a Warrior. The path of a King.

All made, on steel wings.

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Kuoh-City  
Japan

Crackle!

Inside a small apartment, a man started awake, his eyes as they searched for what had awakened him, focused hazel piercing the darkness of bedroom.

His eyes softened as they landed on the source, a picture frame on his bedside table, containing a photo of a small family. A middle aged man, a young red-haired woman with golden eyes wearing a black veil and robes, the man himself, not having aged a day, laughing and smiling. And one other...

A small boy, between five and seven years old, with the same hair and eyes as his mother and the refined looks of his father.

The noise had come from the glass in front of the picture breaking, in such a way as to surround the figure of the boy, leaving him surrounded by cracks, emphasising him.

"Salil," Azazel, the leader of the Fallen Angels spoke softly, gently reaching out to caress his son's face momentarily, before sighing deeply, feeling the old sorrow and grief, and gently pulling the frame face down before returning to his rest.

His last thought before he rested again, '_I wish you were here, my son._'

Little did he know, that his wish would be granted.

But not yet.

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Well folks, how did you like it?

I know that this isn't my best work and it deviates from Heavens Feel quite a bit, but that was the point. Shirou here is different from CanonShirou. I also apologise for duffing the scenario. I just wanted it out of the way so I can get to DxD verse and the real meat and potatoes of the story can get moving.

I can also here you all screaming over Shirou's Sword challenging, and defeating, Excalibur. In this case, it was a battle of concepts. Here is the profile for the sword.

Name: Shamshir-e Zomorrodnegar

Title: Sword of the Soul of Solomon

Appearance: A simple Shamshir. Steel Blade and ebony hilt. The curved pommel like bit at the end is a hollow steel ring, inset with four emeralds around the outer rim. The pommel ring can come off with a chain attaching it back.

Abilities:  
Is able to 'cut' through magical energy. (The reason why he was able to cut through the Excali-blast. It is, after all. crafted from magical energy.  
It is a Holy Blade and as such is extremely powerful against Devil, demons etc.  
It can command water in all forms (ice, mist etc) via one of the jewels on the pommel.  
It can command the air via one of the jewels on the pommel.  
It can allow the user to interact with the spiritual realm via one of the jewels.  
It can allow the user to speak all the tongues of man and beast via a jewel. This is a passive gift.  
It can 'seal' beings of spirit into the blade, using the chain, allowing it to convert the captured into energy that the sword can use to bolster it's master and repair itself.  
It also confers a decent level of Magical Resistance. About B+, maybe edging into A, only as long as it is in his hands. About C otherwise.

Rank: A

Type: Anti-Unit, Anti-Army, Anti-Thaumaturgy.

As you can see, it is a very versatile blade. An amalgamation of King Solomon's Sword, Seal/Ring and Chain. It is nowhere near as powerful as the Anti-Fortress attack of the Sword of Promised Victory but it wasn't trying to match it power for power. He only wanted to remove part of the attack from it's source, the inherent anti-magic properties of the blade allowing him to do so. If he had tried to strike the actual sword of Excalibur while it was empowered by the attack, then he might have had a rude awakening as his sword may have just broken. Thankfully, my Shirou isn't that stupid.

Maybe.

As I said, sorry for my somewhat lack of quality writing. But now the story truly begins to unfold.

Best Wishes and please review,  
kujikiri21


	3. Chapter 3

On Steel Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own Fate/Stay Night or High School DxD

Chapter 2

Author Notes:

Now, on with the show!  
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A fortnight after Arrival  
One year before Welsh Dragon's Reincarnation

"That will be five Euros, sir." Shirou spoke pleasantly in Greek as he placed a dish of Moussaka in front of the portly man, his moustache quivering in delight as the smells from recently made dish made the man's mouth water and his stomach rumble in delighted anticipation at the forthcoming consumption of the heavy lunch.

A banknote was promptly thrust into the hidden magus' hands, the perfect amount, and a brief, sincere ( and mumbled) 'thank you!' was thrown at him before the man began to devour his meal with fervour.

Shirou blinked in slight surprise at the man's actions. He knew he was a decent cook, but he still didn't think it should elicit this much of a response.

He shrugged mentally and simply processed the amount through the till of the small restaurant. A quick glimpse at the clock on the wall beside an aging poster of an old film, far too faded to make out anymore, revealed that it was almost time to end his shift.

"I'll take over, kid" a mellow and deep voice spoke from behind him, not phasing the hybrid, having sensed the person coming up behind him, "you go take off for today, you've more than earned it."

"Thank you, Sir" Shirou responded, turning to his employer, a traditional Greek man of middle years, his thick dark hair yet to be flecked with the white of age with a deep olive skin tone and bright blue eyes that showed warmth, seriousness and determination.

He was also built like a brick wall, tall, broad and muscular. Not like those bodybuilding fools, but lean muscle that showed that the man _worked_, and hard. The flowing movements of his body as he moved across the restaurants floor, with almost a dancer's grace, told Shirou a mountain of stories, one such being that he was no stranger to battle, and had at least served one tour somewhere, and had also been trained in ancient melee weapons. Probably a spear if Shirou wasn't mistaken by the calluses on his palms.

"Off you go, boy" the man rumbled with a slight smirk, "it's never a good idea to keep a lady waiting, never mind two."

Shirou frowned at his employer slightly, as the man chuckled slightly at his own jest, before stalking away to hang up his pristine white apron and set off for his current place of residence, stepping out into the streets of Mikonos.

The burning summer sun beat down like a burning hammer, only to be reflected by the blinding white stone walls and roofs of the many buildings, architecture that was so iconic to the Greek culture, making Shirou begin to sweat almost immediately. The streets were slightly busier than most modern Western countries would be at this time of day, mainly due to the old Greek custom of making lunch their heaviest meal and fondness for dining out, making Shirou have to be a trifle... pushy... in order to get anywhere.

Shirou just used the time taken to return to the small, but plush, unit, to muse on his first thoughts he had upon arriving in this still strange world.

_Start Flashback_

_Shirou was more than a little confused and worried as he cautiously peered out of the alley, looking out onto the busy street._

_In the middle of the noon day sun._

_Last time he had checked, it was only just midnight in Japan, but now, as the harsh sun beat down on the oddly familiar stark white rooftops of this bustling city, he couldn't help but think he was no longer in Kansas anymore._

_Though which of his companions was the little dog in that scenario, he refused to contemplate. Only most foolish, and ignorant, of men compared the female gender, in any way, to dogs._

_"Where the Hell are we?" he murmured as he drew back into the alley, leaning against the wall and sliding down, the unreality of their situation setting in._

_"__**You are in the Mediterranean**__," his bracers spoke, a rumbling purr of contentment and relief accompanying the voice of the spirit within them, __**"in my world."**_

_"Your world," Shirou repeated softly in shock, his mind reeling with this discovery, "but how did-?"_

_"__**I know not**__," rumbled the tiger, interrupting the sword-made-flesh, __**"but none the less, I - no, We - are Home."**_

_Shirou looked at the bracers in stunned shock, speechless._

_Home. A new world. His world._

_Shirou shook himself quickly. Now wasn't the time, nor the place, to contemplate this. Especially with his companions both out of commission._

_They needed to move. To find a safe place, so they can work things out._

_He heaved himself to his feet again, and slung Rider over his back, piggy-back style, with his princess, Sakura, secured safely in his arms, bridal-style._

_He frowned slightly at the fact that Rider had barely reacted to being picked up. Obviously, she was completely out of it if she hadn't been able to awaken from his somewhat rough handling._

_His mouth twitched into a smile at the delicate and softly sleeping form of his beloved, looking so innocent. He scowled heavily, cursing himself viciously, as he remembered what had been happening to her right under his nose and not helping her._

_That ache would stay with him until his dying day._

_He shook himself again. Now was not the time to bring his past failings._

_He made his way into the street, acting like he belonged, searching for a small hotel. Quite a few glances and open stares were sent his way, not many people having seen a young man carrying two women before, but they didn't attempt to stop him, or worse report him, thanks to his actions and firm step._

_One of the few things the old man had been able, or willing, to teach him was how to hide in plain sight. If you acted like you belonged, like everything you were doing was normal, people were more inclined to ignore you, like you were merely a small fleck of bright colour on a dull wall, seen, noted but easily forgotten._

_He made good use of that lesson as he made his way to a hotel he could see a little more than two blocks away with his sharp eyes. According to the large board out front anyway._

_He absently noted the language of where he was seemed to be Greek as he listened and watched the crowds as he moved amongst them, his knowledge of the language through Shamshir-e allowing him to understand them._

_He was swiftly in the doors of the establishment, the time taken, negligible, and was just as swiftly given a room, with a little help from some basic hypnotism Magecraft._

_Strangely, as he opened the door to the basic, but well appointed, room, he seemed to find that it was easier than it should have been to hypnotise that attendant. Like a great weight was no longer pressing on him as he performed his arcane arts._

_Something else to think about._

_He gently laid both Master and Servant, side by side, on the double bed and then proceeded to sink himself into a nearby armchair and thought._

_The last few hours, Hell the last few days, had been hectic for him and his associates/allies/friends/what-have-you. Sakura's abduction, fighting multiple Servants, etc, etc, had tallied up and was leaving him more than a little weary. It had been a small struggle just to dredge up enough prana to hypnotise the attendant at the front desk._

_But now he needed to take stock of his situation._

_One, he and his companions were in a different world. Something that should have been impossible unless their name was Zelretch. Moreover, if the old tiger was correct, it was his world of origin, something that had shocked him when he had found out years ago, a few months after the old man's death. Though it had explained how he was a True Hybrid of a Divine Spirit, something not seen since the Age of the Gods._

_The old man had looked like a stunned mullet when they had found that out. He, himself, wasn't much better at the time._

_He shook himself, trying to return himself to the situation at hand, rather than dwelling on the past._

_Two, resources, like money, accommodation, food, medical supplies, identification, etc, etc, were a bit sparse on the ground. This could be rectified rather easily by him, money-wise, at least when his body wasn't spinning with exhaustion and his od levels were replenished somewhat. The others would need a bit more time and investigation into the local 'lower' elements of society._

_Three, the portal from the Dimensional Gap probably didn't go unnoticed. He could easily feel the amount of power that practically flooded from the portal when the old cat had successfully moved he and his companions to the normal realm. Any Phantasmal species worth their salt could have sensed it and would probably investigate, for reasons both malicious and benevolent. He would keep a close eye out for the possible 'welcoming committee' and try to steer clear of them until his group were better positioned and prepared for whatever reception they may receive._

_He frowned slightly. He would have to consult with the tiger in order to get a clear view of the supernatural politics and ways of living in this realm. His old world's rules most probably didn't apply and he had no desire to step on any metaphorical toes. Especially when he was so vulnerable._

_Knowledge-wise anyway._

_In summary, they were stranded and lost, in a strange place, with little to no resources and the high possibility of someone coming for their heads._

_Shirou chuckled grimly as he leaned back into the suddenly comfortable seat._

_'Life truly does love throwing me some curveballs,' he thought tiredly, his eyes sliding shut, before drifting off into an uneasy sleep._

_He would deal with things later._

_End Flashback_

He was jolted out of his reminiscing when he realized he was now just outside the door of the trio's new apartment, The solid wooden door almost pressed to his nose.

'I really shouldn't drift in thought,' he thought wryly, before reaching for the keys in his pocket and opening with a call.

"I'm home," he called politely, taking his shoes off on reflex, the manners of what he considered his home country were still deeply ingrained.

He was rewarded for his manners by the soft but clear tones of his loved one.

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"Welcome back," Sakura said softly and demurely as she looked at her paramour, her purple luminous as they drank in his form. Her own form wasn't bad either, with a simple blouse and ankle length skirt combination, coloured white and mauve respectively, hiding her well developed figure from prying eyes.

"Welcome," Rider also answered, her soft voice pleasant yet detached, from the small couch where she reclined, indulging in her passion for books. She no longer wore the blindfold and provocative battle-wear, but was instead adorned with the delicate oval reading glasses, with similar properties to her Breaker Gorgon, that left her gem like eyes exposed, hip hugging and low-cut blue jeans and a simple dark purple blouse that matched her long hair. She was a picture of casual seduction, not trying to but attracting attention anyway. Her inhumanly beautiful features also helped.

Sakura smiled at her lover before returning to kitchen in order to finish up lunch, keeping an a sharp ear out for the other two occupants as they talked.

"How was work?" Rider asked, her voice polite and rehearsed, not really caring about the answer to the question but asking for form's sake in any case.

Sakura heard the creaking groan of chair springs as Shirou reclined in a chair with a small grunt, "About the same as usual," he opined with a slight sigh, "Long, repetitive but fulfilling." A slight chuckle was heard as she swiftly cut up the ingredients for the salad, "the boss knows how to get the most out of me."  
"Indeed." The clinical voice of Rider answered.

A slight silence descended, nothing more than a calm before the storm.

"And your day?" Shirou queried, intent and serious. Sakura frowned slightly as she mixed the salad, knowing that Rider had important news in regards to the task Shirou had asked her to perform when they had arrived in this strange world.

Something that had shocked her when she and Rider had been informed when they had woken up a day later after the destruction of the Grail.

_Start Flashback_

_"What?"_

_A single word spoken flatly, filled with both disbelief and incomprehension, as if questioning the very existence of the cause of the query._

_All of it coming from a single throat._

_Rider's._

_"We're in a different world," insisted Shirou, leaning forward in his hotel seat as he sat across from her and Rider, "tell me you can't feel something is different about the world? Like a great weight has been removed from shoulders? As a spiritual being, you should have sharp enough senses to detect something of that nature."_

_She watched as a flicker of a frown passed over the usually impassive face of the Servant before returning to its normal blank state. Sakura knew Rider well enough to know that this was her equivalent of grudging admission, not liking the point that was made but admitting it's validity in the depths of her mind._

_"I can feel something," she answered slowly, as if the answer was being dragged through clenched teeth, "the local mana is more prevalent and plentiful than even in Fuyuki, something I find difficult to understand due to the lack of leylines I can sense."_

_"Exactly my point, Rider," Shirou interrupted swiftly, "one of the reasons Fuyuki was chosen to be the location of the Grail War was the sheer strength and power of mana that was already there due to an intersection of leylines. Fuyuki was known to be one the most powerful convergences currently known. The fact that this bustling city has a stronger presence, without the benefit of a leyline convergence, goes against everything I was taught about Magecraft."_

_Sakura understood the point her sempai was making, despite her lack . Ordinarily, a place with this magnitude of power would have been claimed by a Second Owner, a supernatural overseer of the area, who would have almost instantly picked up on a dimensional disturbance that sempai had described as happening, and would have immediately gone to investigate, easily tracking them down in the process._

_The fact that this had not happened indicated that something was off._

_Sempai wasn't done yet though._

_"A much stronger point that can make my case," Shirou expanded, "is this one question."_

_Shirou's piercing amber eyes locked with Rider's blindfold. Sakura shivered slightly in apprehension and arousal. Apprehension, due to the possible question that could confirm a complete change in their lives, leaving them at the whim of fate and chance. Arousal, as those amber eyes she loved so much, burned fiercely with determination, defiance and dependability, showing a nature that would stand against the heavens themselves to defend what was under his banner, his protection._

_They were the eyes of a Warrior King, defending his country, his home, his loved ones._

_And she was his Queen._

_But this revelation was washed away in the wake of the question that sent chills down the spine of the Matou heiress._

_"Can you feel the effects of Gaia?"_

_Sakura felt her body freeze in surprise and shock, her Servant not much better judging by the stiffening of her shapely shoulders._

_Sakura stretched out with her link to Rider, feeling for the sense of hunger that the link caused, devouring her prana in order to keep Rider in this plane of existence, fighting the will of Gaia to erase Rider from existence._

_What she had found shocked her. The link was still there, as solid as ever._

_But it wasn't consuming prana._

_There was no need to keep feeding Rider power, as she wasn't being acted upon by the Will of the World. By the Root, it was like the Will of the World didn't even exist. Something that was blatantly impossible._

_Sakura felt the silky tendrils of Rider's consciousness flow up the link, gently touching her mind, a question passing along that mirrored her own._

_'How was this possible?'_

_Shirou only looked at them in understanding, obviously having the same revelation and reaction they did some time before, letting himself come to terms with it._

_"I see you finally understand," he spoke wryly, "this isn't simply a parallel reality, like those used in the Second Magic, but a completely different dimension, where even the basic rules that governed the moonlight world, the world of magi, of our reality no longer apply. It may be similar to the Second Magic, but like monkeys and humans are similar to each other. Similar but also entirely different."_

_She and Rider were still left reeling at the reality of their situation. A completely new world, a different land with new rules. It was Sakura's dream and nightmare, all wrapped in one package._

_Shirou went on speaking._

_"I have a vague theory as to how we were transported here, which I will go into later, but there is one thing both of you must know."_

_He looked grim as he spoke now, the set of his shoulders slumping, as if carrying a heavy burden. He opened his mouth to continue, but was interrupted._

_"We can't go back." Rider spoke calmly, obviously having managed to gather at least some of her wits and mental faculties, as she managed to connect the dots of the amber-eyed males words._

_Shirou froze for a moment, looking at the Servant who had voiced the statement, before leaning back in his chair, closing his eyes, and nodding grimly._

_Sakura felt a twisted sense of elation and sorrow at those words. She was with her sempai, but she was in a strange world. Forever._

_"The sequence of events that led to our... 'banishment', I suppose... was completely unique." the swordsman explained tiredly, his head still tilted back, "to the best of my knowledge, I don't think it can be replicated," he snorted slightly, mockingly "not by me anyway."_

_Sakura managed to stir herself back to the present and nodded quietly in agreement. As an Incarnation, his magecraft would always be limited in scope, if not power._

_"So now what do we do?" she spoke softly, voicing her questions for the first time during the discussion. They were lost at sea, with no supplies or back-up. What could they possibly do?_

_Shirou cracked open an eye to stare at her, "The only thing we can do. The thing that man has done since they first stepped foot upon the earth," he answered softly but with a steely determination, "Survive, adapt, overcome. Live as we will."_

_Shirou sat up straight again, so suddenly that Sakura felt herself start, and leant forward into the eyes of Rider again, "and I will need your help to make this possible, Lady Medusa."_

_Sakura watched Rider seem to peer intently at her sempai, her face still in an impassive mask, examining him for either deceit or treachery. Rider obviously didn't know her sempai as well as she did, such thoughts would never have crossed his mind, not when she was involved._

_"What do you need?" Rider said as she finally relaxed a little._

_The resulting discussion between the three went on for quite sometime._

_End Flashback_

That discussion, full of plans and plots, had been Sakura's first glimpse into the hidden depths of her lover's mind. Despite her loving him just as deeply as he did her, she still knew that there things, important things, about him that she knew nothing of.

In that discussion, she saw the razor-sharp, cunning and experienced mind that he kept hidden from her, either consciously or not. It was not the skill with weaponry, his own version of Gradiant Air or even his Hybrid nature that he had kept hidden, contrary to a normal magi's modus operandi.

It was his ability to think and plan, not like a magi, but a soldier, a general or a tactician. Someone who experienced war and battle, survived it's crimson embrace and came out all the stronger for it.

Despite his skills, it was not something she had expected, or seen before, from her sempai.

Until then anyway.

She still wondered how he had attained such experience, even as she added the dressing to the salad and began serving it on the plates that already had a lightly baked slice of chicken breast placed upon them. It was not traditional Japanese fair, but she though it suited the climate of where they now are.

"It has borne some fruit," Rider responded calmly, belying the importance of her answer.

A scrape of chair was heard, no doubt Shirou was now eagerly paying attention.

Sakura swiftly finished the preparation of the meal and brought them out to the rest of her companions, leaving the last of the cooking utensils until after the meal.

She wanted to hear what her Servant had discovered as well.

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Rider, the Gorgon Queen, eyed her Master's paramour as they all began to eat the sumptuous repast that she had prepared for them all, before they got down to the news she brought.

To her, this man was not someone that she could easily understand. He showed himself as a serious individual the majority of the time, but was also capable of some rather amusing antics. He was a man driven to become a Hero, but chose the life of her Master even over that. He was a warrior, born and bred, the likes of which she had never seen in her lifetime and only sparsely amongst the Throne, yet he seemed as much at home in the kitchen or performing simple domestic duties that were generally relegated to the female gender.

In short, he was a confusing, almost bizarre, existence.

It was almost no wonder a person such as he had a Reality Marble.

He also was very respectful of her. Not out of fear due to her power, as normal humans or magi would be, or out of desire for her beauty like many of the ancient men that had come to the Shapeless Island, before Athena had driven them into a bloody rage. No, his respect was just a part of who he was, treating everyone that met with an equal respect, until they proved unworthy of that respect, like her filth ridden false master Shinji.

Sincere respect was something she was unused to, especially due to her reputation and legend.

It was probably because of this that she had, hesitantly, trusted him when he decided, vehemently, to go along with her in order to rescue her Master, something she would not have done for anyone else. Indeed, if any other person had declared such a thing, she would have slit their throat before the last word was spoken, not willing to risk her Master's well being to hands of a modern magi, who were, almost to a man, without any morales when in the pursuit of their goal. She had been betrayed too many times to trust the word of anyone.

But this... man... had managed to show her the side of humanity, of men, that she had almost never seen.

It disturbed her that she valued this insight, and the one who showed her this.

It was this that allowed her to go along with his plan, despite her misgivings.

_Start Flashback_

_"You jest," Rider spoke flatly, hiding her surprise at the man's request._

_"Not at all," responded the incarnation of swords, his voice earnest and sincere, "I mean no offence to you at all, but you don't exactly blend in with the rest of society, even with the limited knowledge the Grail had granted to about the modern era. So, instead of of asking you to keep hidden and unseen, which would not be fair or respectful to you, I'm asking you to use that ...uniqueness... To our advantage."_

_Rider mentally acknowledged the point the man had made. Despite the knowledge the Grail had granted her, she felt uncomfortable amongst this modern world that was so different to the one she had experienced when she was still alive. With the battles and such generally taking place during the nocturnal hours amongst 'those in the know', as well as her ability to go into astral form, she was able to avoid any awkwardness in social interaction._

_Now though, in this new world that seemed to be more like her own world was during the Age of Gods, mingled with the modern era, that feeling of displacement, of being alone in a crowd, came back with a vengeance._

_Especially since she had, apparently, lost the ability to go into astral form._

_But that still didn't mesh with what the man was planning._

_"We desperately need current and up-to-date information, Rider," the former Master of Saber spoke persuasively, "Especially in regards to the supernatural part of the world. And who better to have do so than a member of said realm, who is powerful enough to fend off most, if not all, unscrupulous attentions, if her great stealth and sensitivity to magical effects somehow fail? Your Magic Resistance skill is also a big plus."_

_"...Flattery will get you nowhere," she answered bluntly, her cheeks turning a shade of red invisible to the eyes. His tongue was obviously made of silver._

_"It is merely the truth," Shirou retorted easily, "whether you choose to believe it or not."_

_"Can you not ask that Sacred Gear of yours?" she asked, gesturing to the bands of steel that wrapped around the forearms of the male._

_That was another piece of the enigmatic man that had surprised the Gorgon. Not only was he originally from the dimension they were now in (something that, while very surprising and definitely unexpected, made a little sense. True Hybrids hadn't been seen in the World since her Age and that fact that he was one indicated an anomaly), but he was also the host of something she could only compare to a Noble Phantasm of the upper ranks, mayhap like the Fraga with Fragarach, which, in turn, held a particularly powerful Transcendental Divine Beast (she thought) sealed within it, that was capable on limited interaction with the outside world._

_Just the thought of his unreasonable existence gave her headaches._

_"__**No such luck, woman**__," the Gear spoke up, surprising the two females greatly, not knowing that it would interrupt the discussion, "__**I may have information, but it is centuries, if not millennia, out of date. I can only obtain new information every time I take, and am awakened, in a new host, something that doesn't happen automatically upon the death of the previous one. In can take up to a century or more, or even a minute or less, for me to be attached to another host."**_

_Rider raised an unseen eyebrow at the rumbling voice that came from the male's bracers. Such information was rather annoying to the Gorgon, but made some sense to her._

_Even if it was annoying._

_"And this plan involves me becoming bait?" she said archly, her covered eyes boring into amber pools of determination. For a man who had been so adamant in becoming a Hero, placing all other lives above his own, even if it was mitigated somewhat by placing her Master's life above even that, it seemed to go contrary to his usual thought patterns to place another in danger._

_"OF COURSE NOT!" he barked sharply and adamantly, thumping the table with a firm fist, making it creak alarmingly, "I would never ask that of you!" his face was flushing an alarming red, as if angered and horrified that she would think he would do such a thing, before he took a couple of slow and deep breaths, his flushed skin fading to it's usual light tan as he reined in his indignation._

_"I can understand why you would think that I meant such a thing," he said calmly, cooly, "your former Master, Shinji, was below filth and has probably tainted your view on things a fair bit, even if you were willing to trust me enough to help your Master," he trailed his eyes, a warm molten gold, over the quiet form of Sakura, making the purple haired young woman blush noticeably, "when she was taken by those dead fools." His voice practically growled out the last word, showing his disdain and outright hate for those her referred to, something that didn't really seem to fit the visage of the amiable, if confident, young man._

_Incidentally, her Master seemed to be inventing a new shade of red as she blushed even deeper._

_"But you have to understand, Rider," he continued, "your skill set makes you the best amongst us to seek out the supernatural. Doubly so, considering who you are and where we are."_

_"Meaning?" she asked cooly, masking the positive effect his words had on her as she weighed the sincerity of them. His words, so far, had given her no reason to disregard or distrust him. And he was an interesting man._

_Not to mention his abilities to lie were horrible, if the efforts he had inadvertently shown her in keeping some of his secrets were any thing to go by. Another's secret, he could keep as if it were under lock and key. His own secrets, not so much._

_Surprisingly it was Sakura who answered he question._

_"I," her Master began hesitantly, "I think Sempai is referring to that we are in Greece," she mumbled slightly and flushing as Rider and Shirou turned their attention to her, "i-if the magical populace is at least similar to our own, then you would be known among them here, in your birth country."_

_"__**Close, little one**__." the Gear answered, a note of respect in the otherwise rumbling and harsh tones before it addressed the room in general, "__**what my Partner means is that, last I checked, Greece was one of the major population centres for the European Monster Faction, made up of various species such as Minotaur, Naiads, Lamia and various other beings that have links to Europe in their legends and myths."**_

**_"And Lady Medusa here has enough of a, excuse the word, Monstrous presence that others of that Faction would pick up on it and approach her, allowing Rider to access information in an, at least, semi-friendly setting."_**

_Rider frowned in dislike at the reminder of her... twisted... origins. She did not like remembering the days of which she was no more than a hungry beast, devouring any and all in her path. Even her own sisters. Still, the man and the Gear did make some sense in their justifications of requesting the deeds they wanted her to perform._

_But there were still a few holes in their reasoning she picked out. One of which was exceedingly dangerous to her due to her past._

_"Why not seek out these Factions for your self?" She asked the swordsman, attempting to get to the bottom of this hodge-podge debacle, "With the spirit as an on hand advisor and your own senses for the supernatural, which possibly equal or even exceed my own, you would be just as good, if not better."_

_The Gorgon watched as the Hybrid grimaced wryly, "For the same reason that you are one of the best for this task, I am one of the worst."_

_Rider's eyebrow rose again in question, before halting midway as the reason dawned on her, her Master a fraction of a moment behind her as she covered her mouth in a gasp, and voiced it._

_"Your heritage." She stated more than asked._

_"__**Correct**__," the Gear responded, "__**the European Monsters had never really gotten on well with the Fallen and have had more than few skirmishes between them, causing a fair bit of bad blood. Last I heard, there was still quite a bit of tension, enough that either side tried not to step on the other's toes or tread on their territory. Technically, if Partner was caught by said Faction here, without any prior permission from members of said Faction, then it could be cause for war!**_

**_"Something we certainly don't want to be mired in or be the cause of."_**

_Everyone nodded in agreement at the Gear's emphatic statement. Borrowing trouble at this point in time was not on anyone's agenda._

_Rider could feel the pieces of the Incarnation's puzzle forming in her mind. HIs thoughts of ran along the line of 'like attracting like'. If the the chatterbox of an artefact was anywhere close to correct in his statements, then the man's idea and plan seemed to be more than feasible. In fact, it appeared to be downright prudent and to do otherwise would either invite disaster or leave the group adrift in this tide of humanity._

_"Sensible," she finally concluded out loud, a delicate finger tapping her chin thoughtfully, "Good returns, minimum risk," she glared lightly through her blindfold at the sole male in attendance, "It also places little risk to my Master and leaves her in capable protective hands in case something goes south while I am not at her side. Correct?"_

_Her voice was still placid, but it had gained an edge of steel as she queried/commanded the young man, her aura, bloody and murderous and chilling, seeping into the air of the room, emphasizing her imminent displeasure if a wrong answer was given regarding her Master's health and well-being._

_She needn't have worried._

_"That was part of it," Shirou noted, his amber eyes gleaming in understanding at her comment/demand/order before flicking over to a flushing Sakura and softening, even as his voice still retained that firm determination, "I don't mean to hurt you, my dear," he said gently, reaching out with his hand to gently stroke the backs of his fingers over her downcast features, "in your own right, you are a powerful magi, your raw power a rival for anyone I care to name," his knuckles found themselves under delicate chin and nudged her softly enough to raise her head to meet his eyes, "but a battle mage you are not, and the Old Tiger and I are unsure how they would react to familiars, in magi context, or other spells being used. The risk of attracting the wrong kind attention is a bit too high."_

_He smiled at her gently, his heart in his golden eyes, showing the love he had for the young girl, "So, buck up, okay? You aren't useless, we just need to find the correct circumstances for you to shine."_

_Sakura face had flushed deeper and nodded with a quiet 'yes, sempai' tacked on the end as a reply._

_Rider's stern features softened slightly as she watched the interaction between the two lovers. On Sakura's part, she was still the shy, broken young woman Rider had first seen when she was summoned what seemed like a life time ago. Someone that was so similar to the Gorgon and still so young, it was no wonder that she had been summoned by the young one. Still, that broken child had been put through even more agony and torture because that slimy rapist of a 'brother' and the soul jumping worm of a 'grandfather'. Thankfully, without knowing, the woman had an anchor to reality, something to keep her relatively sane, if not whole, and sought to bring herself closer to her Hero, her Knight, her Saviour._

_The Hybrid originally, on the other hand, could only be considered as, to quote the Tohsaka girl, 'distorted'. His values, ethics, beliefs and thought patterns ran contrary to rational thought of the average person or even the average magus. The terrifying thought that his life, in comparison to others, was worth little or nothing, could have been since as an extreme form of Survivor's Guilt, but it wasn't quite correct. There were similarities, more than a few in fact, but there was a difference. In someone with Survivor's Guilt or a Messiah Complex, they each seek such self-destructive paths in order to fulfil an emotional aspect, assuaging guilt in the former and deriving joy or satisfaction in the latter._

_Shirou's distortion was such that he did such suicidal and hopeless things, out of instinct, an unfeeling drive or urge that was imprinted on the very basis of his psyche._

_Left alone, the magus would have driven himself to an early grave, uncaring of himself as long as he could help others, even if it meant his death._

_Such was the fate of Archer._

_Then, during the Grail War, her Master was able to bring herself deeper into his heart. Even if it was driven slightly by the putrid worms and circumstances, the two had become lovers._

_Which started to shift the swordsman's priorities._

_No longer were his thoughts based on saving people he didn't know, but based upon Sakura's happiness. It wasn't quite obsessive, but it did show more devotion than one would usually see within a relationship._

_In either case, he was able to place some value on his life because his life was directly linked to Sakura's happiness._

_In Rider's opinion, it made him more able to make good tactical and strategic decisions. No one in their right mind wanted a seemingly suicidal commander in a war._

_Though, for some reason, the Servant had a feeling that the young man had seen prolonged battle, like a siege or a war, before the Holy Grail debacle had started. She couldn't place a finger on what caused the suspicion, but it stayed in the back of her mind, occasionally nudging her to remember it._

_Rider shifted out of her musings to input her own opinion of Shirou's justifications in excluding her Master from potentially harmful situations._

"I agree with Shirou, Master" she opined, looking at the slightly saddened young woman, "you are strong, I have no doubt about that, but you are no warrior or assassin, both of which will be required for this task."

_Sakura seemed to accept both of their words, reluctantly and resignedly, and nodded in agreement._

_Rider looked back at the slightly melancholic form of Shirou, who did not like to bring sorrow to Sakura but still gave the unvarnished truth so as to prevent her coming to harm, "Despite everything said, I have to ask this question," her blank gaze locked firmly with the male magus, "if this a major centre, but not the centre, for the European Monster Faction, as you stated, then who is the ruling Faction of the area?"_

_To Rider, this was almost a rhetorical question. With the brief history of this world provided by the young man, the similarities and the differences, she had had a suspicion on the nature of the area they were in. On whom actually ruled here. In the deepest parts of her mind, she knew, but she still sought that confirmation, and hoped to the Throne that she was wrong._

_Because if she was right, her history with them, as a whole, was... rough... at best._

_Her suspicions were verified by the next words that crossed the winged man's lips._

_"About who you would expect," he said with a grim sigh, leaning back in his chair with his brow furrowed, "but the Olympian Faction doesn't have quite as much sway amongst the islands as they do on the mainland. Except for Poseidon, of course."_

_Medusa let out a slow breath as she tried to calm her churning and thrashing mind._

_Olympians. The Council. The Rulers of Greece. Under whatever title they bore, whatever trappings they wear, whatever changes were made to them over the nigh uncountable number of years, they were still the same thing that she once had been but had fallen due to their incited jealousy._

_Deities._

_She still remembered the days that she lived with her sisters, accepting the adoration, respect (in the case of her sisters), fear (in her case due to her eyes) and worship of the ones whose dreams they were made from._

_Then Athena appeared on the scene._

_Jealous and wroth with the three new deities, so perfect compared to her own flawed existence, the Goddess of Wisdom goaded their worshippers into attacking them. Again and again._

_Soon, the attacks became so frequent that they were forced to leave, situating themselves upon the Shapeless Isle for the rest of their days, away from the swords and torches of humans._

_The fact that they were forced to flee tasted like ashes on the Gorgon's tongue. Rage and bitterness were all the thoughts and feelings she could spare for the races of Men and the entities called Gods._

_But it still wasn't enough for both Men and God that they had fled. Men kept coming after them desiring to sample and claim the delights of her sisters and her flesh, even if her sisters did not wish to._

_Medusa made sure they were made an example of._

_Even with this, they kept coming, Athena keeping the legend of the beautiful maidens, ripe for the plucking, alive within the thoughts of men._

_Blood flew and organs and limbs lay scattered across the island and she kept slaying them, each death more gruesome than the last. She eventually began to glory in the bloodstained shores of the island where she had met the foolish men in battle. Her anger at the Gods, Men, her sisters, the very world, reaching a point where it took over her mind, spilling blood being the only way to assuage the almost overwhelming hunger that ruled her._

_Evidently she had missed a few of the intruders, having been too focused on breaking their comrades to notice they had escaped, returning to their homes, gaunt and pale, with stories of terror crossing their lips and tales of a monstrous woman on their tongues._

_Having been shaped by the dreams of Men, it should have come as no surprise that she could be altered by their nightmares._

_She remembered little of the time when she was the Gorgon, time blurring together in a crimson haze of blood and hate until she was killed by that demi-god son of Zeus. A last moment of clarity and regret, then she fell into oblivion, taking her place in the Throne._

_All the things that had gone wrong in her life, all the events that paved her path of blood in history, could be attributed to this particular branch of divine beings, many of which, no doubt, had less than fond memories of her counterpart in this realm._

_And she was being asked to do what amounted a reconnoissance mission, 'under their noses' as it were, in almost the very centre of their power._

_About the only thing worse would be having to sneak around on Olympus itself._

_If she had any other viable ideas, Rider would not have hesitated in giving them in order to avoid any confrontation with the Olympians. She may be a fallen Goddess, a former Monster, and now a Heroic Spirit, but she knew that her power, limited as it was due to her status as a Servant in comparison to her true form, was not in the league of a deity. The confrontation would be short, decisive and would not end in her favour, if it came to blows._

_She did not want to encounter them, even Poseidon who she had a semi-friendly relationship with before her... Transformation..., but she had a feeling that they would become involved in this little information gathering mission. Sooner or later._

_Rider heavily hoped for later._

_She grimaced inwardly. This was a fate she could not avoid. She was best option for intelligence this limited group, with little resources, to obtain their goal._

_Hopefully, this whole situation would not blow up in their faces._

_Hopefully._

_Her voice was measured, clinical and clipped, hiding her unease, as spoke to the softened and sympathetic eyes of the Hybrid, "Where should I start looking?"_

_Shirou looked at her deeply in the eyes, as if peering into her very soul, much to her discomfort, before nodding slightly at her unspoken acquiescence to his plan._

_"According to the Old Tiger, this particular monster Faction is some what reclusive, but like to stay close to human habitation. So, we need..."_

_Rider carefully listened to the search patterns, if they could honestly be called that, Shirou laid out for her, picking up on the behaviours of the counterparts of the many beings she had seen, in her time, in this realm. But, even as she listened, asked specific and clarifying questions and heeded the advice of Shirou, the Gear and her Master, she could not help but think that these words may end up being of little use or interfered with._

_After all, if there was one thing she had learnt whilst living, it was that Gods love to meddle._

_And, if found, they would be a __**Very. Tempting. Target.**_

_End Flashback_

"Rider?" A voice spoke in concern, jolting her from her musings. Her beautiful head lifted up, her unique eyes, framed by the powerful glasses that made up one of her Noble Phantasms, meeting the concerned amber orbs of the focus of her thoughts.

"Are you alright?" he queried her with a slight frown, obviously at least slightly worried, "we were calling your name for a few minutes, but you weren't responding."

Rider found herself surprised. As someone who had had numerous beings gunning for her life when she still was amongst the mortal world, it was essential for her to be attentive to her surroundings and the events that took place in order to survive. That she was so deep in her thoughts that she had tuned out the world, to the point of ignoring her own name/designation being spoken numerous times, was concerning. Slips like that had cost people their own lives before.

She had no desire to join that particular list.

"...I'm fine," she answered, trying to cover her slip, "I was just lost in thought."

Shirou faced changed quickly, much to her surprise, from worry to a mischievous smirk, "Then you may want to avoid that in future," he said slyly, a twinkle of humour in his eyes as he gestured before her, "after all, we don't really need our food bills to sky rocket."

Rider tilted her head in confusion before glancing down at the table, her eyes widening in shock at the sight before her. Or rather, what she didn't see.

The delicious repast of chicken and salad, prepared by her Master, had only barely been touched when she had drifted down memory lane. What sat before was an empty plate seemingly almost licked clean, the cheap white porcelain gleaming in the light.

She had been unconsciously eating without thought or remembering the taste after the first few bites.

Her Master was truly frightening. Forget Magecraft, her cooking was almost a True Magic in itself.

And she had learnt from the young man whose amber eyes gleamed in merriment at her surprised expression.

Surprisingly, she had not yet tasted the sinful delicacies that the Hybrid was purported to be able to make, despite his vocal statements of his desire and wish to use the kitchen more often. Considering that the young man's employment was in a traditional Greek restaurant, Sakura had been of the opinion that he didn't need to slave over a stove for them when he had already done so at his workplace. Shirou had tried to protest, only to be met by the soft voice, watery eyes and hesitant demeanour that was a woman's most dangerous weapon.

He had folded like a house of cards, much to Rider's amusement, and let Sakura do the cooking for the small household.

Her amusement had only grown each time he saw Shirou look longingly at the entrance to the small kitchen whenever the smells and sounds of food being cooked reached him, accompanied by the soft humming of her Master.  
"...I'll be mindful of that in the future," she replied, hiding her disgruntlement.

If his slight smirk didn't show that she had not hidden well enough, her Master's soft giggle would have.

The light atmosphere changed to a serious one as Shirou pushed his also empty plate to the side, his face now focused.

Obviously it was now time for her report.

"Have you found any traces or made any contact?" he asked, not beating around the bush. Like Rider, he knew that the longer it took to locate the local Faction, the heavier the chances became that their encounters with a different Faction, most probably Olympian, would be uncomfortable to say the least.

And it would happen. The combined luck of all the assembled pretty much guaranteed it.

Thankfully, the news she had may just prevent a divine catastrophe.

"I have recently made contact," she answered calmly, cooler heads were needed in this discussion, a wrong move made because of a misplaced feeling could very well mean bad news, "just today in fact. A small group of Nereids in a secluded beach on the northern part of the island."

Shirou and Sakura's eye widened in interest. Despite being magi, finding, meeting and surviving beings such as they were once in a millennium meetings due to the decline of the Age of the Gods. It seemed that childish wonder still had a place in each of their hearts despite the hardships they both had faced in their life.

Something she would muse on later as she continued her report, "They were wary of me at first, not knowing who or what I was, but once I flared a portion of my power, they were more than intrigued and we talked for a time, catching up on recent events with my ploy of growing up secluded."

"So the ploy worked," Shirou sighed in thankfulness. Rider did also, she knew nymphs of any stripe could be rather dangerous if they felt they were being insulted, and lying would be quite an insult. Thankfully, it was more of a half-truth, and quite permissible under the circumstances.

"The island is currently firmly under the control of nymphs," she continued, "tourists evidently make for an interesting distraction for them, keeping them occupied." she drew a deep breath, the next bit of news would be very unwelcome, to put it mildly, "the problem with that is that they bow only to Poseidon, of the Olympian Faction."

She saw both of the younger people before her stiffen in slight alarm, something she shared but had had more time to prepare and order her mind to accept this news.

It was a scenario neither of them wanted to face, but it was now their real predicament. As magi, Sakura in particular, they had grown up learning of the true nature of the Divine Spirits during the Age of the Gods.

Callous. Petty. Egotistical. Selfish. Vengeful.

These words, and many more, could accurately describe them. In other words, dealing with them was only to be done as a last resort, else they may twist your deal to the point that it destroys you. If they even keep up their end of the deal at all, that is.

And now, knowing the way Nereids worked, they would have informed their Lord immediately upon the end of their discussion.

Shirou chose that moment to sum up their situation.

"Well Damn."

Pbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpb

Hey folks. Okay, I know many of you may be disappointed in the chapter due to the lack of action, but this is more of a filler chapter for the 'meet and greet' that will happen next. I wonder how Rider will feel when she meets of one the 'kinder', for a given value of it, Olympians.

Just a warning to dxd purists, my Poseidon will be more like the one from PJO.


End file.
